


I Didn't Kill You Then, I Won't Kill You Now

by Indecision



Series: Trust: A Working Theory [1]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Consensual Mind Control, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Good Jonathan Reid, Human Geoffrey McCullum, Light Angst, M/M, Medical Procedures, No Civilian Kills | Not Even Once, Pacifist Route, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, no beta we die like mary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indecision/pseuds/Indecision
Summary: Reid proves himself different from other leeches time and time again, much to McCullum's chagrin. Monsters took lives, they didn't save them, and yet here the good doctor was running himself ragged curing the sick and culling the epidemic.Should McCullum accept Reid as a different breed and carve out a space in his life for the man he once swore to destroy? Can Reid trust him to not put a stake in his back? And at the end of the night, can they both cast aside their instincts enough to gain what they both really want?Alternatively, Geoffrey and Reid just keep running into each other. Considering their shared hobby of slaying monsters, it shouldn't be so unexpected - but what truly blindsided them both was the attraction that ensued.*This fic has been substantially edited since its original posting. The plot remains untouched but keep in mind if you've read this before it might be a bit different the second time around.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum & Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Series: Trust: A Working Theory [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061213
Comments: 97
Kudos: 227





	1. In The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCullum is fighting a loosing battle with an infected bite wound, and Dr. Leech won't take no for an answer.

Dr. Reid came across Priwen patrols so often it was rarer to go a night without having to drape himself in darkness just to cross the street than it was to wander freely, but it was always a delight to come across the commander himself in all his glory. Watching McCullum in his element was a strange kind of captivating, as if his dispatching of beasts was a performance rather than a perfunctory task, and Jonathan never failed to pause in his rounds when he felt the familiar beating heart pounding within his range. The promise of a show was always too alluring. 

That was how he’d found the hunter - trading blows with a hoard of Skal he’d corralled into a narrow alleyway - but something had been off. He’d watched the graceful man stagger and lurch with the elegance of a one legged dog, and where once he would’ve dodged and parried, now he took a claw to the shoulder, a bite to the leg, a headbutt to the nose, and Jonathan had closed the distance between them without a thought. He’d been about to slice into the fray when a crossbow bolt hit true, dropping the leading Skal with a burst of blood from between its blackened eyes, and the tide of battle had turned in Geoffrey’s favor. Reid pulled back, still thinly veiled within the shadows as he observed the hunter slash and thrust through the remaining two, his maneuvers more rash and brutish than usual but just as cold and calculated, never a movement wasted, and when the last Skal had been put down Jonathan took the time to examine deeper. Blood pumped voraciously through the hunter’s heaving chest, but it coagulated strangely across his hipbone unlike his other superficial wounds. Reid strained his focus more but needn’t have bothered; he could smell the infection in the spilt blood littering the damp alley street. 

“It’s unlike you to drag your feet like that,” the doctor called from behind the hunter without preamble and received an icy glare for his trouble. “That wound is infected,” he explained as he allowed the shadows clinging to his form to dispel, “allow me to address it.”

“The hell you will,” the hunter shot back, seemingly unfazed by the friendly-neighborhood-leech’s dramatic entrance. His breath came in shallow pants as he rose stiffly to his feet, and Reid moved immediately to steady him. 

“Get your claws off me, leech. I don’t need your help,” McCullum growled. 

“Of course, by all means please walk home by yourself then.” Dr. Reid mocked and released his grip on the hunter’s arm, leaving him to stumble and drop back to a knee on the hard cobblestones. The night was thick around them and a low fog hung heavy in the dark alley, clinging to their clothes with a lingering damp chill that lined McCullum’s throat and made him feel like he was drowning on air. The mist settled on his sweat soaked brow, and Jonathan could see the shimmer on his skin as he panted. With effort, McCullum collected himself and stood again, holding his side and only wincing slightly. 

Jonathan frowned at him sternly. “You need medical attention,” he stated objectively. The hunter scowled at him, his snarl feral, but only snorted and spat on the ground. 

“I’ll heal,” he gruffed, “lived through worse.”

“I don’t doubt it. Unfortunately, we rarely get to decide which injury will be the end of us. Better to treat all wounds with equal gravity.”

“We’ve got our own medics, and you’re the last doctor I want with my blood on his hands,” McCullum growled and Reid pursed his lips.

“Fair enough, but I can’t imagine a medic worth his salt would let an injury like this devolve so poorly. I can sense the infection from here. It’s started to fester…” 

The crease of McCullum’s scowl only deepened. “We have good men,” he defended, “they do what they can.” He leaned back against the alley wall and pressed the heel of his palm to the wound in question. 

“But they’re not doctors,” Reid finished for him. 

McCullum hesitated, but relented and let his head fall back against the brick behind him with a dull thud. “No, they ain’t doctors.” 

Jonathan didn’t ask as he stood before the hunter and gently untucked the man’s shirt from his trousers before his hands were hastily slapped away. “Keep your bloody hands to yourself,” McCullum commanded and Jonathan gave him such a weary look it made him appear the most human Geoffrey had ever seen him. The light trails of black ink beneath his papery skin were faint, but never absent, and even though they were numerous and spider webbed across Reid’s complexion, the dark circles beneath his eyes were most prominent. The good doctor suddenly looked so exasperatedly tired that it seemed to age him ten years, and he sighed a long suffering sigh before he pulled on the shirt again, only for McCullum to clamp his own hand down to still Jonathan’s wrist. When their eyes met again, they found themselves at an impasse. 

“This is not a wound that will heal on its own,” Reid insisted. “For God’s sake, McCullum, if I had wanted you dead I would have killed you twenty times over by now.”

McCullum sneered. “Bold talk, gimme a minute and I’d like to see you try,” he growled, ever the fighter. 

“One would think you’d have learned by now,” Reid gave another experimental tug to no avail.

“I’ve no reason to trust you. Not killing a bloke’s leagues away from goin’ out of yer way to save ‘em. Why would you help me? I didn’t ask for it.” 

Reid blinked at him. “Because that’s what I do. Even Death couldn’t keep me from it,” the doctor smirked. McCullum huffed and grimaced at the resulting pain, but let his grasp falter on his wrist. Reid unbuttoned the shirt and pulled the layers away from the teeth marks staining the man’s lower abdomen, prominent and an angry, puffy red just above his hipbone. The tear in the flesh was jagged and had been sewn together poorly, a rag tag line of stitches pulling pieces of skin together over empty space. The crease where the edges of skin met was a sickly chartreuse. Jonathan knelt to the ground to inspect it closer. “This is serious, Geoffrey. The infection is significant, we need to get you to the Pembroke immediately,” he decided, his voice somber. 

“I don’t need a hospital.” Geoffrey argued instinctively, but the fight had left him. He leaned his cheek against the cool brick wall and allowed Reid’s prodding of his tender stomach, hissing when he plucked loose a useless stitch. The stone under his cheek felt blissful.

“As a doctor I can only highly encourage you to reconsider, but as an… acquaintance, I frankly don’t care. And I’m sure if I were to leave you to your own devices, I could collect your unconscious body from where it fell and bring you to hospital anyway.” Reid’s words were meant to be playful and teasing, but his tone still held too solemn a note to be anything but grave. McCullum wanted to argue, he always did, but exhaustion was a hell of a drug and it weighed heavily on his tongue.

When Jonathan had seen enough, he rose to his feet and looked at him questioningly. There was a challenge there, one that Geoffrey wanted nothing more than to rise to, but his head hurt, his mind felt foggy, and everything ached. The fever made every movement sluggish and taxing, and in truth a bed, even a hospital one, sounded like the most decadent of luxuries Geoffrey’s mind could conjure. Pushing back from the wall he stood on shaky legs and looked anywhere but those bright and shineless eyes. It was the most submissive gesture the vampire would get out of him. 

“Good then,” the doctor nodded, “come with me.”

The walk back to the Pembroke was long and arduous, as McCullum refused at every turn Jonathan’s attempts to help him walk. The vampire knew better than to offer to carry him outright, so they made their way side by side, slowly but with purpose, and with the added benefit of blessedly empty streets. Arriving from the northern bridge, Jonathan stopped them below the scaffolding to his private room and made an apologetic face.

“Oi, what’s that look for then?” McCullum asked suspiciously. 

“After your kidnapping and general ransacking of the place, the hospital staff will be less than eager to see you. I’ve been told the Guard is no longer welcome on hospital grounds.”  
“Why the fuck are we here then?” The hunter fumed in irritation. “You couldn’t have said something before I walked all this way?” 

Jonathan glanced up to the scaffolding purposely and McCullum followed his eye. “We’ll just have to sneak you in the back way,” he explained. 

Geoffrey looked at the wooden beams with fatigued eyes and sunken shoulders. His gaze crawled up slowly to the makeshift balcony jutting out from the second story high above his head with only cross beams and a smattering of random planks to guide an assent, and though he could have scaled up to the platform in his sleep any other night, this evening he looked at the boards as if they were gallows. A lesser man would have cried, he thought to himself, but he moved to the bottom of the platform without a word and slapped a hand over the lowest beam before Jonathan gently gripped his shoulder. McCullum looked back at him with a defeated glance. 

“I’m afraid I must insist on doing this my way. Apologies.” McCullum didn’t like the sound of that even before the doctor had curled an arm behind his shoulders and bent to scoop his knees out from under him. Had McCullum’s head not been so fever addled he would’ve broken the man’s jaw the second his unsolicited touch chilled his skin, but as he was instead he only pitched back and fell straight into the doctor’s confident arms. 

“OI!” He shouted indignantly as Jonathan stood again with an armful of hunter. The sudden jostling pulled at his useless stitches and the pain sucked the air from his lungs, but still he yelled with all the rage of a jilted lover. “Put me down! Let go of me, you blood-sucking bastard!” His weak struggling in Reid’s iron grip did nothing to assuage his anger, nor did it deter Reid in the slightest. 

“Quiet,” the doctor admonished, “we’re supposed to be sneaking, remember?”

“Fuck you!”

“Enough,” Reid silenced him and bent his knees before leaping straight into the air, wind suddenly clawing wildly at McCullum’s clothes and chilling his feverish skin, before they were still again, standing atop the twenty foot tall platform he had attempted to climb not 30 seconds ago. McCullum blinked his watery eyes and looked out over the city as he waited for his breath to follow. 

“Are you alright?” Reid questioned sincerely. Geoffrey pulled his gaze away to return it to the doctor only to realize he’d thrown his arm around the vampire’s neck in his struggle for purchase. He wriggled again to put his legs to the floor, and Jonathan allowed it. 

“You’re the doctor here, you tell me,” he quipped breathlessly running a hand through his tousled hair. 

“Quite right, inside please,” Reid insisted and ushered him through the open door. McCullum had been inside the doctor’s study before during his previous investigations, so the clutter was unsurprising, but this was the first time he’d been invited and the first time he wasn’t here alone. 

“Please sit,” Reid instructed. McCullum sat on the bed. There was nowhere else. He watched the doctor float from desk to hutch to sink, fetching material as he went to bring back to the swivel tray table he had pulled beside the cot within easy reach. “Remove your clothes if you would,” he said. McCullum only gave a moments pause before obliging the request. It went against every instinct he’d worked so hard to ingrain within himself, but as the doctor had said: if he intended to kill him, Geoffrey would already be dead. He stripped himself of overcoat and shirt before tossing them to the floor, where Jonathan eyed them with a degree of annoyance but made no comment. Reid washed his hands thoroughly and sat on a stool to McCullum’s left side, inspecting the wound again before beginning to remove the ineffective stitches. McCullum’s breath stuttered a bit but he remained otherwise stoically unperturbed, and when Reid had finished and uncorked a small brown bottle he made another apologetic face, which McCullum recognized this time around. 

“I don’t trust that look,” was all he could manage before Reid had dipped a cloth in the solution and pressed it firmly to the angry tear. 

“FUCK!” He yelled and lurched from his touch. He swore again and gritted his teeth when the jerky movement ripped at the edges of the wound, already raw and aggravated, and he dug his nails into the bedding beneath him to keep them from tearing into his own thighs in an effort to keep himself still.

“I truly am sorry, I know personally how much this stings,” Reid soothed. McCullum breathed harshly through his nose, but the worst he knew was over and Reid’s careful caresses felt less abrasive with every swipe. 

He sighed raggedly and collected himself. “Do what you need to,” he gritted out between still clenched teeth. Jonathan only nodded and set to work. He took his time methodically cleaning away the seeping ooze, and when he was done he turned to his needle and thread. He looked at the hunter for confirmation, and took McCullum’s stern nod as consent before he worked the needle deftly through the first dip of free skin. The hunter kept his jaw clenched but made no sound as the doctor worked, quickly and efficiently, and before long the wound was closed and McCullum assessed the man’s handiwork. It was impressive, he would admit, clean and straight despite the jagged and uneven edges of the bite. Leagues better than what that rookie had been able to sew into him. He hummed his agreeance and Reid figured that that was as much as a thank you as he’d get from the Guard. 

“The wound is clean,” Reid announced and placed his hand flat over the injury, “but the infection lingers. Hold still.” McCullum had no qualms against that and leaned back with his elbows on the bed and the doctor closed his eyes with a hand to his bare stomach. Geoffrey wasn’t one to be bashful, but he was growing more and more aware of his lack of shirt looking at the leech’s focused expression. Even with the doctor’s eyes closed, Geoffrey would never forget the power that lay dormant beneath that ivory skin, and his compromised position did nothing to make him feel any less vulnerable. The seconds droned on and McCullum could hear the faint ticking of a lone clock somewhere in the chaos of the room and still the doctor’s hand remained cold upon his perspiring skin. “Mm,” he hummed as he opened his eyes.

“Spit it out then,” McCullum groused. Jonathan’s pale and troubled eyes seemed to look through him. 

“The wound is clean,” he said again, “but the infection has spread. I can sense it permeating your system.” The doctor gave a half-hearted snarl and McCullum didn’t miss the flash of fang. “You should have come to me sooner.”

“With all due offense, mutant, you’re still the last doctor I would’ve gone to.”

“Then you should’ve seen any doctor sooner. Done anything sooner! This was reckless and irresponsible of you, Geoffrey,” Reid spat like a father who’s child had deliberately disobeyed him, and he stood to tower over where the man lie on the vampire’s own bed. "What good are you to anyone dead?” he pressed. “Is that the way to get through to you, perhaps? Where would Priwen be were their leader to succumb to his own stupidity? Too stubborn to take care of himself, the Guard in shambles because of a fool’s pride!” Geoffrey stared at the vampire, his outburst so far outside the realm of the cool and collected gentleman McCullum had always observed, but he looked away quickly and grimaced out the still open door to gaze off into the night. He didn’t dignify the doctor’s rant with a response, if only because they both knew he was right. Geoffrey had jeopardized more than himself with his bullheaded, headstrong nature, it just wasn’t everyday he was called out on it. And it certainly wasn’t in his nature to take a reprimanding from a leech lying down. He sat up straight and looked Reid in the face. 

“The Guard would endure as it always has. It’s strong, an’ it’s bigger than me, bigger than you. Priwen will prevail, and will always rise from the ashes, with or without me. You don’t know anything about what it means to be a soldier.” Reid noted the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes, so blue and alive, that he sat back on his stool again, eye to eye. 

“Maybe I don’t know what it means to soldier with the Guard of Priwen,” he admitted, “but I do know the life of a soldier of England. And I know that ‘every man for himself’ does not win wars. Your mission is a collective one. A team effort.” Neither man wanted to be the one to break away first from the contest of wills they’d found themselves in, but Jonathan was the one to turn and gather his supplies when McCullum made no move to look away. 

When the doctor’s back was turned as he returned his tools to the sink, Geoffrey looked to the floor. “You don’t seem like a newborn,” he muttered mostly to himself, “wise beyond yer years.” 

Reid did not reply but came back with more bandages and clean rags, setting about cleaning the fresher injuries from the night’s events. McCullum accepted the care without another word.   
When he was done and McCullum bandaged, the doctor’s frown remained. “Geoffrey,” he began, “this affliction will kill you.” 

Geoffrey kept every muscle in line, not so much as letting a twitch loose at the delivery of the doctor’s conclusion. He focused very deliberately on keeping his breathing even. “You don’t know that,” he tried to counter. 

“Not with certainty, I’ve seen stranger things of course, but not within the realm of modern medicine. This infection in anyone else would be fatal,” Reid stated with conviction.

McCullum lifted his head at the unusual wording. “What d’you mean ‘anyone else?’” he asked. 

Reid leaned forward on his stool and rested his elbows on his knees. “Not just anyone else is my patient,” he said simply. 

McCullum thought he would follow that up with more, but when he was only met with those haunting eyes roaming his bare chest, seeing underneath his scarred skin, he prompted him. “D’you have a plan?”

“I have… a theory.” 

“Haven’t I had enough surprises from you tonight?”

“I can control your blood,” Reid reminded him and McCullum had to suppress a shiver. He hadn’t forgotten the night they’d fought in the Pembroke basement. McCullum had thought he’d had him, with the leech on his knees and false sunlight pouring in from above, but his victory had been as much a mirage as the doctor’s goody two shoes act was a farce. He’d been so sure of himself at the time, but even now, months later, the feeling of one of the most devastating attacks he’d ever seen from the hands of a true vampire still lingered in his bones like impressions baked in clay. He’d felt the blood beneath his own skin flush hot, and suddenly the burning fire in his veins had been too much, as if he himself were the leech burning in the sun. It had lasted only a moment, but it had been only one of Reid’s stunning displays of power that night and had turned the tide of their battle in a spectacular display of grandeur. 

“Ay, I’m aware.” 

“In theory, I postulate I could control the components of it as well. I could recirculate the pure cells, while siphoning out the tainted,” he explained. 

“…Out? Take it out? You want to _bleed_ me?”

“Don’t give me that look, you make it sound much worse than it is.”

“Not a chance in hell, leech!” he spat and tried to stand. Reid threw up a steading hand, not quite touching him, as he wobbled to his feet. 

“Sit, McCullum, we still have much to discuss,” Reid insisted. 

“No, Reid, I don’t think we do. It was convoluted, but in the end your goal has always been blood by any means.” McCullum was unsteady and he still felt sickly feverish, but he’d be damned if he stayed in this bloody hospital another minute. The question remained whether to brave a climb down the scaffolding in his condition or strut out the front door like he owned the place with the hope that the display of confidence would mitigate the risk of being stopped and interrogated. The leech interjected before he could make a decision. 

“If you walk away now you’ll be dead within the week,” he promised. 

Geoffrey had thrown his overcoat on over his bare skin and left his tattered shirt abandoned on the floor - Reid could use it as rags if he wanted - but he stopped when he thought about what walking away realistically meant for him. This wasn’t something he could fight himself, he knew, no matter how resilient he claimed to be. Stubbornness, even that of Geoffrey’s magnitude, couldn’t strong-arm Death.

“You don’t know that,” he tried again. 

“I can wager and extremely educated guess.”

McCullum chewed on his lip with his back to the doctor, a position he would’ve kicked himself for allowing six months ago, but he turned slowly to regard him skeptically. 

“You’re my patient, McCullum. Sit, and let’s talk,” Reid gestured back to the bed. 

McCullum’s eyes drifted between it and the doctor but he moved gingerly to sit regardless. “Go on then,” he sighed, “talk.”

Reid went on, explaining how he can feel the tainted blood within Geoffrey’s system, sour and polluted in comparison, and how it should be possible to manipulate it, and only it, to congregate where he directs. 

“There’s a lot of theoretics there, leech. How can I know you won’t just boil me alive like you tried to the last time?” McCullum accused. 

“Need I remind you that I didn’t boil you alive last time? It’s a delicate procedure, to be sure, but one I’m confident I can perform.”

“And how do I know you won’t take all my blood instead of just the infected? Why eat the rotten apple when the ripe one’s on the same plate?” 

Jonathan sighed heavily again. “It’s quite exhausting having to defend my principles to you yet again, Geoffrey. I can’t say anything more to convince you of my morality that I haven’t already.”

McCullum continued to chew on his lip but in the end he knew his options were limited. It didn’t take a doctor for him to know the extent of his affliction; he could feel it. Even still, one question remained that had haunted him throughout many sleepless nights. “Why are you doing this, Reid?”

Jonathan cocked his head in question. When it became clear that McCullum had no plans to elaborate he answered simply. “You’re my patient.” 

McCullum shook his head and tried again. It was time he got his answers. “Why did you spare me that night in the basement? I should’ve died that day, but here I am. And now, I’m at Death’s door again and you’d go out of your way to pull me back. Why did you save me then? Why save me now?”

Jonathan sat up and leaned against the back of his stool thoughtfully, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not sure I could make you understand the oath a doctor takes to do no harm. To heal whenever able. I spared you that night because I thought there had been enough blood spilt. I knew you to be a good man, and I wanted you to go on and do good things. Is the value of human life not enough?”

McCullum narrowed his eyes warily. “No,” he said, “it’s not. I was a threat to you and I made it clear I always would be. To kill me would’ve been to save yourself.”

Jonathan huffed and glared at the hunter before he looked to the ceiling and chose his next words carefully, speaking slow and methodically. “I saw in you a kindred spirit, McCullum.” Geoffrey scoffed but Reid went on. “I see in you a dedication and a passion I’ve not seen in anyone in a long, long time. Every time we meet is… an experience. It’s jarring. I felt more alive when you confronted me than I had since I awoke.” Reid dropped his gaze to meet Geoffrey’s bewildered stare. “And I often found myself wondering why you’re so different from the others, and then I realized. I believe it’s because you care. You come across as this being so embroiled in hate and anger, but truly it’s because you care so fiercely and with a fire that it spreads and inspires wherever you go. I want to know that you are still in this world, one so full of soulless, empty-eyed people with nothing left inside of them - people so very unlike yourself,” he paused before continuing, “and depriving the world of a soul like yours would’ve made me into the very monster you so falsely accuse me of being. That is why I spared you. And that is why I always will. Is that satisfying enough an answer for you, McCullum?” 

The silence in the room felt heavier than the low hanging fog of the London streets, but McCullum managed a simple nod and left it at that. He had nothing left to say.

“Good. Then let’s proceed. Please remove your jacket.” McCullum wordlessly shrugged the heavy coat from his shoulders and Reid cleared his throat. “Now then, it takes approximately one minute for blood to circulate from the heart, throughout the body, and back again. It should only take a couple of passes for me to purify your system, so ideally this shouldn’t take long,” he explained as he rested a knee on the bed beside the hunter. He gently pressed his hand to the hunter’s temple, urging him to lean his head to the side as he leaned close, only for McCullum’s swift hand to seize his throat and stop him cold. 

“What do you think you’re doing, leech?” he demanded uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

Reid sighed again and McCullum could feel the muscles of his throat working under his hand as he spoke. “I’m going to bite you. This was the plan.” 

“On the neck?” McCullum wanted to whine.

“The jugular vein would be the best place for this. More blood flowing at a time, but not an artery that would be difficult to suture,” the doctor explained with endless patience. 

“It can’t be an arm?”

“I could draw from a wrist perhaps, but it would take longer through a smaller vessel.” 

McCullum frowned but nodded. “Fine,” he conceded and tipped his head to his right, baring his throat and balling his fists on his thighs. “Do it.”

McCullum’s eyes never wavered from the vampire as he leaned back in and traced the vein of the hunter’s throat with his thumb as if he were testing its solidity, marking his target. McCullum silently cursed his racing heart, knowing full well the vampire could hear it hammering in his chest and feel the thrumming in the artery below his fingertips. Reid was going much slower than McCullum would’ve expected, perhaps savoring his meal, perhaps not wanting to startle him, but no preparation could have stifled the soft gasp that was ripped from his mouth as Reid’s lips closed around his neck, blissfully cool against his fiery skin. 

In another setting it may have been pleasant. He could feel the firm, sharp pressure of the leech’s fangs, a momentarily crushing force before his skin yielded to the intrusion like red hot metal pressed to ice, and McCullum groaned at the burn. He raised his left arm, needing to hold on to something, anything, and fisted his hand in the doctor’s long hair, grasping firmly to keep himself grounded. Reid nearly spluttered against the man’s neck, but closed his eyes again and focused, resting his free hand against the hunter’s bare side. McCullum fought valiantly and futilely to wrestle his heart rate down to an appropriate pace, but settled instead for breathing deep, even breaths, which he found was easier said than done. It was as if he was suddenly hyperaware of every cell in his body and as if each and every one of them was at Reid’s beck and call. The skin beneath the doctor’s mouth felt like molten metal, pooling and burning around those two pinpricks of ice. He could feel the barest tip of tongue tickling his skin as the doctor intermittently swallowed mouthfuls of his blood. Heat pulled at his body from all directions and centered on that one, dastardly spot, and McCullum realized that as the edges of the heat was pulled up and peeled away it left a refreshing coolness in its wake. As it accumulated under Reid’s lips, it was being drained from the rest of his body, leaving only clammy, sweat-drenched skin behind, and the temperature differential he could mark the border of with a pen had he so wished. It was working; the infection was receding and with it the fever, and with the fever the rest of McCullum’s sanity. 

Reid gave a final, definitive pull on the skin of Geoffrey’s neck before ripping himself away, pulling his head free of McCullum’s grip and breathing heavily through blood-soaked lips, his eyes hooded and far away. Geoffrey was panting hard while his head swam furiously and he had to fight quickly to tamp down the swelling crest of nausea. The heat was gone and he was left slick with sweat and shivering in the cold open room. He pressed a hand to the lingering sting of his neck and pulled it away to look idly at his blood-coated fingertips and Reid seemed to come back to himself at the sight, quickly moving to press a clean cloth to McCullum’s fresh wound. 

“Hold this,” he instructed in a deep raspy voice McCullum had never heard before, but must have been timed with another draft from the open door as it made him shiver again. Reid noticed the convulsion and swung the door closed as he retrieved more bandages, and he took the cloth from McCullum before bandaging the sluggishly bleeding would smartly. He didn’t look up to see the hunter’s face, but he wouldn’t have met McCullum’s eyes in any case; the hunter’s gaze was set to the wall. Reid put a hand directly over McCullum’s heart this time and closed his eyes again.

“The infection has cleared,” the doctor spoke and opened his eyes. “I don’t sense any more imperfections. You may feel a bit woozy for the time being while you recuperate from the blood loss, but you should recover by morning.” 

McCullum nodded and let the silence swallow them again. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence so much as a confusing one, and finally McCullum rose to shaky feet only to sway and stumble to the side before catching himself on Reid’s old beaten up desk. He was there at his side in an instant pulling him by the underarm back to the bed. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he chided, “you need rest.”

“‘M gonna go rest,” McCullum argued with a heavy tongue.

“You’ll sleep here tonight. You’re in no condition to walk home.”

“M fine,” he insisted even as Reid led him back to the cot. He sat on it heavily and Reid pushed his shoulder down easily. McCullum let him and took a deep breath as he settled into it. 

“Goodnight, Geoffrey,” he recalled Reid telling him. Though he had no intention of going down that easily, McCullum rested his eyes for a moment before he opened them again to the sound of birds outside the window and people bustling about on the floor below him.

McCullum blinked in the semidarkness and remembered the room having been much brighter when he’d last closed his eyes. The overhead lights had been turned off and the heavy curtains drawn tightly shut. He sat up slowly, but his head seemed much clearer now than it had the night before. He only took notice of the scratchy throw that had been laid over him when it pooled around his hips. His boots had been removed. 

“What the hell…” he grunted as he rubbed at his eyes to tried to push back the faint beginnings of a headache. His heart told him to lie down again and crawl back beneath the thin rag of a blanket, but his better judgement told him to take stock. Where was Reid lurking? McCullum must’ve passed out after his “donation” but when he got up to pull the corner of a window curtain back, dusty daylight lit his face. Reid wouldn’t have gone far with the sun above the skyline. As far as McCullum knew, he slept when the sun was high as all leeches did, and this was his room and this was his bed. There was no where else for him to be.

He let the curtain fall back and moved to explore when the tightness in his stomach made itself known with an exigent growl. Leech attacks really took it out of a man, and his hunger suddenly seemed boundless. Reid had smuggled him in through the backdoor last night when he’d been dead on his feet, but now with a renewed vigor and the fever not clawing at his aching muscles, he felt it in him to sneak his way back out unseen on his own. He spotted his old worn coat hanging off the far door above his neatly lined boots and ignored the fact that Reid had hung up his belongings with care like they were Christmas stockings on a mantle. He bristled at the gesture, one which the doctor himself probably hadn’t even thought twice over, and rounded the work table in the center of the room only to trip over a pair of unnecessarily long legs, and he had to raise his knee high at the last moment to stumble over the man on the floor without crushing him.

Dr. Reid lay on the floor with his head pillowed on his arm, no blanket to speak of, and a crease in his brow that didn’t suit him at all. He had removed his over and waistcoat but still slept in his button up and slacks from the night before. McCullum marveled, rooted to the spot as he observed the sleeping vampire, all raw power and menace beneath the unassuming facade, and he squatted on his heels to look closer at the doctor’s face. There was something to be said about seeing a creature with such unimaginable abilities so defenseless, it was like the calm before the storm, or the softness of a wild wolf’s fur before its teeth snap around your wrist. The hunter stared intensely, as if pieces would drop into place if he analyzed him hard enough, when suddenly those pale eyes were open and staring right back at him. McCullum blinked as his mouth dropped open in surprise before he quickly snapped it shut again and stood. 

“Mornin’ leech,” he greeted cooly. Reid didn’t answer immediately, but regarded him from the floor before sliding to a sitting position. 

“McCullum,” he responded in a voice thick with sleep, “you’re looking well.”

The hunter nodded. “Feeling better, all things considered. You on the other hand look like shite,” he observed. His hair was disheveled and the dark circles beneath his eyes were worse than the previous night. There was a telltale line across his cheekbone where the wrinkle of fabric had imprinted in his skin while he slept. “My boys will be looking to know where I am,” the hunter continued. “I’ll need to be getting back to ‘em.” 

It was Reid’s turn to nod then, and he asked “will you be able to take make the climb down by yourself? I can’t very well carry you outside at this hour.” He got to his feet to lean against the table at his back. 

“I’ll manage fine. I’m quick on my feet when I’m in my right mind.”

“So I recall,” Reid quipped as he turned his back on the hunter and sat heavily on the bed with the fatigue of many a sleepless night. McCullum followed past him to the door and paused to see the doctor lie down on the mattress he’d only just vacated. The vampire breathed a deep and redundant breath and chuckled to himself with closed eyes. 

“What’s so funny, leech?” McCullum wanted to know. Reid cracked a single eye open and found the hunter looking at him sternly. 

“My bed smells like you,” he stated plainly. McCullum couldn’t find the words to respond to that, and he most definitely couldn’t identify the feeling that zipped through his chest and settled uncomfortably in his gut, and could only disregard the comment completely lest he dig too deeply into it. 

“Don’t think this means I owe you anything, blood-sucker,” he warned as grimly as he could, “you helped me because you decided to, not because I asked.” Jonathan only smiled at him, a tired, sad little thing. 

“Of course, McCullum. Have a good day,” he said pleasantly and closed his eyes again, leaving the hunter to see himself out.


	2. From Whence I Came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid goes about his rounds and fulfills a promise to a doomed man, but is it enough to assuage McCullum's suspicions of the good doctor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda wanted a bit more development in their relationship before I introduced Reid to the Guard but this is just how it shook out 😅

Geoffrey McCullum had no particular attachments to much of anything, least of all the city of London, but he did feel a civic duty to the world as a whole when it came to curbing the vampire presence. It was for this reason, and this reason alone, that when he came across Dr. Jonathan Reid early on in his nightly patrol, he followed him. He’d spied the doctor making his way South near the docks, suspiciously far from his Pembroke lair, and watched him slip into a side tunnel leading up to the Southwark bridge. When he thought he’d given him enough of a lead, he slinked up the stairs in his wake and only spotted him again in the stairwell from above when the doctor descended on the other side. 

Through back alleys and crumbling streets the hunter stalked the leech, and with McCullum’s natural prowess for blending into the darkened corners of the city one would have trouble discerning which of the two truly commanded the shadows. He stepped into alcoves and turned behind corners whenever the doctor so much as twitched a slender finger, until finally he came to a stop outside the derelict remains of the bombed out munitions factory. 

McCullum was familiar with the building -as everyone in Southwark was- and had ordered his men to scout the place thoroughly and he was as confident as he was in anything that the building was vacant of all valuables. The outer walls were still in shambles and the main facade had caved in, but in the front courtyard a single stone pillar remained untouched, obviously a new addition to the scene since the initial bombing. He watched from afar as the doctor took in the sight and read the small inscription at the base of the stone before taking a step back and looking all around, searching for something in the dark. 

McCullum sunk back further into his alley away from the revealing streetlights as Reid returned to the road and stopped in the middle of the path, looking this way and that. Even from a distance McCullum had no issue making out the troubled frown that strained the doctor’s mouth, his lips pursed in thought while the moonlight reflected ethereally off his dark hair, making it gleam a startling white. His chin lifted suddenly, a mark that he’d seen something noteworthy, and walked unhurriedly to the clump of flowers growing stubbornly in the sandy dirt at the end of the street. He crouched to admire them and McCullum cocked his head and squinted to better see him pluck a single bloom from the cluster, before hesitantly pulling up a second. McCullum kept his eyes narrowed but allowed the leech to move past his hiding spot once again, this time with the flowers held delicately in his gentle hand. Back at the monument, he softly laid a single flower atop the plaque and spoke a few words Geoffrey couldn’t parse. The leech stood for a moment, lost in thought, before turning and taking the remaining flower with him. 

Geoffrey trailed after, anticipating another long winded chase and allowing a good amount of distance, but he had London’s weaving crossroads memorized better than any cabbie and he knew the only thing of significance at the end of this path was not a place one visited lightly. His nose scrunched at the scent on the air, the clawing, familiar, pungent smell of decay tearing at his throat long before the road emptied into the large cul-de-sac. He stuck to the wall of an abandoned shack to draw nearer to where Reid was standing on the edge of the mass grave, the rotting bodies and scattered bones below him piled one on top of the other like logs on a fire. The sight of bodies wasn’t new to him, not in this day and age and not in his profession, but the scent was something you never truly got used to, and he hoped that the day he did was the day he joined them and not a moment sooner. 

He watched in silence as Reid tossed the remaining flower into the grave and could hear his weary sigh even from where he hid a good twenty yards away. “You can come out anytime, McCullum. You have nothing to fear from me,” he called without turning. 

McCullum tensed and held back a slew of curses, but slowly stepped forward and into the blinding construction lights. No use hiding from someone who could hear a fly at 50 yards he mused. It was no surprise that the doctor’s senses had picked up on him, he just wished the bastard would tell him outright rather than let him make a fool of himself chasing shadows. Although, he suspected, that was probably the point.

Jonathan made no move to greet him, so he walked to stand off to his right and inspected the fallen flower from the edge of the pit. It sat lightly, a perfectly white lily, juxtaposed atop the chest of the corpse it lie on, who’s peeling, waxy flesh was nearly the same putrid color of the maggots that infested it. He looked at the vampire whose eyes hadn’t left the bloom and waited. He was the one that had called him out into the open, he could be the one to start whatever this impromptu meeting was. 

“I don’t recall where exactly I died,” Reid began ominously, “but I remember waking up here. Surrounded by the dead. Unable to recollect.” 

McCullum studied him. He always looked so haunted, his face pale and his cheekbones a tad too sharp. Haggard, but always in spite of the immaculately kept beard and the hair never a strand out of place, and although his eyes were bright and clear they were deeper than they ought to be. A vampire doctor, a walking contradiction. McCullum wondered if it was the look of a half-starved leech or simply the gauntness of a hollow man. 

Reid finally turned his head to McCullum for the first time that night, the dark circles beneath his eyes just another part of his complexion, like ink tattooed beneath his skin, and spoke with a voice as broken as the bones beneath them. “I crawled from this very grave on my hands and knees up to the road, until I wandered into the arms of the one person who in that moment I would’ve given anything to have a thousand miles away from me.” He drew a slow and steady breath and the two lapsed into silence again. McCullum did not urge him to continue, only kept his eyes to the expanse of the grave. “I came to with my dear sister already dead in my arms, drained of her blood, the remnants still on my own lips.” Jonathan faced McCullum with broad shoulders and spoke to him without indictment. “And then I was shot. Pursued by hunters, I had to leave my sister’s corpse lying in the street while I fled for what was left of my life.” 

McCullum had no need to hear this. He didn’t care for a demon’s sob story. It was good to know your enemy, it was another to delve deep enough to stir a shred of sympathy. “What’re you looking for leech? An apology? You won’t find one from me,” he growled. 

Jonathan laughed, an empty soulless chuckle that shone light on his unnatural teeth. “I’m not so naive to think you’d stoop so low,” he gritted out. “No, I need nothing from you, hunter. But you ought to acknowledge that your methods are steeped in vindictive cruelty. You lack a basic understanding of the so-called scourge you seek to destroy.” 

McCullum puffed air from his nose in a dismissive snort. “A leech is a leech,” he declared. “No one deserves better treatment than another.” 

“Would you say the same of humans? That they all deserve the punishment that is due to the one who sins?”

“A normal human’s main ambition ain’t tearing throats.”

“And neither is mine, I’ve done nothing to earn your ire. The first door I opened as a vampire led to a gun to my face. I begged the man - your man - for help, for answers, for anything! But all he did was leave me to the sunlight.”

“I’ll admit he fucked up then,” McCullum conceded, “if only because he should’ve put a bullet between your eyes.”

“Do you truly think we feel nothing, McCullum?” Reid wondered aloud and turned the full force of his gaze upon the commander. “That because we’re predators we have no morals? No comprehension or guilt? No desires beyond bloodlust?” 

“The bloodlust’s enough,” Geoffrey told him. “The rest’s just clutter that gets in the way of the goal: Kill leeches, before they kill you.” 

Reid scoffed. “Small-minded answers from a small-minded man,” he threw out scornfully. 

“I don’t have to justify my actions to the likes a you,” the hunter argued. 

“And why not? If your actions are so noble, stand behind them. Are you not proud of the bodies you’ve burned? Could your own kills not fill this very grave?” 

McCullum squared off against him and the snarl he wore was as deadly as any saber. “I put leeches in the ground, period. No ifs, ands, or buts, because the moment you start making exceptions is the moment you’ve sealed another man’s fate. Your kind always snap, it’s only ever a matter of when, and when you do all the people you get to before we get to you are people that would still be alive if we’d just put a stake in you from the beginning. There is no trial, no judge, and no jury here, only leeches that have killed and leeches that will kill. Both are only ever good dead.”

Reid granted him a look that made the commander furious and sick to his stomach in near equal measure - it was sad, and he saw pity where he expected frustration, but what surprised McCullum most was the disappointment evident in his tired eyes. The doctor shook his head defeated. “Between the two of us, I wonder who should be labeled a monster?” 

McCullum glared at him but Reid glared back undeterred. The hunter wanted to see anger flare in his despondent eyes, he wanted to see fear, rage, anything other than that confusing flicker of cold disheartenment that left McCullum feeling as though he’d somehow fallen short of a test he hadn’t known he was taking. The doctor dropped his gaze first and shoved his hands in his pockets to look back to the lily. Geoffrey continued to stare at him.

“I take it you’re recovering well,” the doctor changed the subject when the silence between them grew too heavy. Geoffrey still eyed him warily. 

“Ay,” he agreed.

“Any concerns since the procedure? I would’ve liked to have observed you a little longer, or at least had you come back for a checkup,” he reprimanded. 

“I’m fine,” said McCullum firmly and Reid nodded. 

“Good. Call on me if any complications arise,” he instructed and turned away from the pit and McCullum without another word. The man looked after him questioningly. 

“Where’re you going?” he called.  
“I have other matters to attend to,” the doctor said vaguely without breaking stride. Geoffrey had followed him without a thought. 

McCullum could barely make out Reid’s words from his position just outside the Turquoise Turtle, having elected to wait outside rather than walk in side by side with the good doctor. He explained the bombed out building to the drunk inside and how he’d laid the flower at the site in memorial and the man sounded surprised but grateful at the doctor’s selflessness, though he offered him nothing but his thanks in return. The doctor hadn’t seemed to be expecting more than that and left the bar shortly thereafter. He regarded McCullum still leaning against the wall cooly. 

“Will you be following me for the entirety of the evening?” He asked with feigned politeness. 

“If I warrant it,” Geoffrey answered. 

“I can assure you my nightly deeds are far less nefarious than you’d like to believe,” he mused as the two started off down the docks and into the city. 

“Hm,” was all McCullum replied. 

As the night progressed McCullum watched the good doctor flitter from man to woman to child, going about his self-imposed duties like a shepherd tending his flock. Every person along the docks that the pair passed he stopped to speak with regarding health, recent news, idle chatter, even going so far as to knock on doors to speak to residents in their own homes. The citizens seemed at ease around him, never questioning his motives, never denying him answers to his probing questions, and McCullum had to wonder how much of it was residual mesmeric charm and how much was simply Dr. Jonathan Reid. 

“What’s in those medicines anyway?” he asked after they said their goodnights to Mrs. Fishburn and left her with a small brown bottle. 

Reid raised a brow at him. “That one in particular was Codeine and Potassium Permanganate, with a hint of clove. Women of Mrs. Fishburn’s age and constitution need to be especially vigilant when recognizing the signs of common cold.”

“Mm,” Geoffrey responded as if he was hardly listening. “And you just give it to her for free?” Reid smiled to him, allowing a fang to slip from behind a lip McCullum now knew to be as cold as the grave. He refused to flinch. 

“It would be unethical to withhold treatment from a patient in need,” he told him. “Moreover, I have very few expenses. I sleep rent free, I don’t require food, and I don’t fall ill. My salary in its near entirety funds my little outages.”

“A pillar of the community,” the hunter grumbled. 

“I don’t know about that,” said Reid, “but I do what I can.”

The pair reached the end of the dock by the time the moon started to sink low on the horizon, and Reid glanced at his ornate pocket watch. McCullum was willing to bet it was more than just silver-plated.

“I’m afraid I’ll need to be getting back soon,” he announced. McCullum nodded but remained where he stood and Reid made no move to depart. The man looked at the vampire with a hard expression, brow creased and mouth firm, unsure what he was looking for but determined to find it in the depths of Reid’s pale eyes. 

“Something bothering you, McCullum?”

Geoffrey hesitated, still searching that pallid, haunting face, but answered steadily. “No,” he finally said. “But if you ever had extra bottles of that medicine lying around, I know some lads who could use it.” Reid raised his chin to look down at McCullum, a suspicious gesture that did not go unnoticed and made McCullum scowl.

“I may be able to distill a surplus next time,” he agreed, “but perhaps you’d take it a step further and allow me to treat these ‘lads’ appropriately. This is not a panacea-” he held up his last vial “-it shouldn’t be given to just anyone.”

“Not a what?” McCullum asked irritably and made to take the vial. Reid pulled it out of his reach and pocketed it smoothly. 

“It is not a miracle cure,” he told him patiently, “it’s for patients with specific, confirmed illnesses, and the contents and dosage adjusted appropriately for them and their condition. You can’t give it out arbitrarily.” 

“Why not? Who’s it hurting? ‘Sides the hospitals that’ll charge twice what it’s worth for half the dose.”

Reid looked at him levelly, the small half smile that had almost spread across his face now buried beneath a stern gaze. “These are chemicals, Geoffrey, and they can be lethal. You could kill someone. I can prescribe it personally, or not at all. I won’t have drugs being passed about on the street without an attending physician delegating where they go.”

McCullum grumbled under his breath but otherwise held his tongue. “This ‘Good Boy’ routine of yours’ll be the death of ya, Reid,” he grunted. “Fine. Come take a look at the boys yourself then. Cough’s going through the barracks somethin’ fierce.”

“I can come by tomorrow evening.”

“Good. But don’t be expecting any rolling red carpet,” McCullum taunted. 

“I’ll be sure to keep that him mind,” Reid replied.


	3. Do No Harm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Leech makes a house call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry! I know y'all are waiting for the whole "lovers" part to come into play in this whole enemies to lovers thing, and I promise it's in the works!  
> 

Priwen was an underground organization, unrecognized by the crown, so their structured hierarchy consisted of Geoffrey McCullum at the top, and everyone else on the bottom. That was not to say that their structure lacked rigidity or discipline, as was far from the case, but it meant that if McCullum wanted to maintain authority he had to maintain respect. From a very young age he had always commanded an air of take-no-shit that made him a natural born leader, and those he led were comforted by his self assuredness and ability to follow through. He made no promises he couldn’t keep, and though his goals were lofty he knew it was within himself to succeed. Nothing was impossible. 

However, in a system such as Priwen where power was a gift bestowed by the governed, McCullum had to be sure he could justify his decrees lest they be called into question. If even one order went ignored or -God forbid- challenged, it would set a precedent that could stand to threaten everything upon which he’d built himself. So when he’d told the leech doctor to come here, of all places, to the West End Theater where Priwen had set up shop, he had to think fast to come up with a way to properly spin the tale.

But why should a tale need to be spun? He was well within his right mind to suggest a doctor come and evaluate his men - their injuries were always extensive and rarely fully treated. This was beneficial to all involved. They’d been slapping bandaids over broken bones for so long that a real physician, one who knew the details of their work and wouldn’t go spreading rumors, would be worth his weight in Orichalcum. Leech or no, this was a valuable opportunity that for the sake of his men he couldn’t let go. 

So it was with a heavy heart and a growing migraine that McCullum did what he was always loath to do; he called a meeting. The theater was blessed with many rooms, enough to house the majority of the soldiers comfortably in addition to a mess hall and storage, but an unexpected perk was the use of the auditorium itself as a gathering place. It wasn’t his ideal course of action to call a meeting of this size, he would have preferred a smaller gathering of his elites rather than the crew in its entirety, but the gears had been set in motion and time was running out. 

Standing dignified and alone onstage overlooking the beige sea of soldiers, even knowing the news he was about to deliver would turn heads, filled Geoffrey with a warm swell of pride. Every now and then he would be stricken by the weight of the solidarity the individuals before him exuded, all ready to die for the sake of others, for the safety of their families, their neighbors, people they’d never met and never would meet, and still they took to the streets every night ready to sweat, ready to bleed, and ready to die. And with only mild complaining, he thought wryly.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began in his gruff and booming tone and the chittering dried up immediately. “I’ve called you here because we have a guest, one some of you may know better than others.” The crowd hushed, their attention captured, and McCullum carried on carefully. “Dr. Jonathan Reid,” he sneered at the honorific, “is a leech-” he paused to accommodate the ripple of whispers he’d elicited- “and yet, in addition he is also a renowned medical specialist who’s agreed to make a house call. Reid’ll be here this evening to look over the wounded and provide consultation. I’m not askin’ you to kiss his arse, but I am asking you to comply.”

As expected, shouts erupted. Cries of confusion and hostility arose like bubbles in boiling water and burst through the surface tension with explosive force. It was interesting to note that it was mainly rookies and cadets that wailed the loudest, while the more stoic of his captains only gruffed and cursed amongst themselves, more skeptic than irate. McCullum raised a hand to bring them to silence.

“This is not a decision made on a whim,” he informed them all in a clear voice, his confidence sure to soothe. “This is a calculated move. The use of an available asset. We have a doctor at our disposal, one a the best in the country, and one that doesn’t ask questions. So this is not a request: anyone in need of attention will line up at the stagin’ area in the foyer. No exceptions. This ain’t an opportunity I’m willin’ to squander, so make use of it.” With a sigh of resignation, he opened the floor to the masses. “Any questions?”

As expected, more shouts erupted though some were well mannered enough to raise their hands as they clamored for his attention. One pulled his gaze harder than the rest and he nodded to the boy to speak. “Sir, you can’t be serious, how’re we ta turn our backs to a leech?”

“You ain’t, you should never give your back to a biter, but he’ll have eyes on him at all times and I’m trusting all of ya to keep your wits about you. Even Reid wouldn’t be daft enough to pick a fight in a room of armed Guards,” he assuaged the crowd with crossed arms and an impassive face. The chattering continued, but certain questions and accusations filtered through the chaos better than others. 

“How’m I s’pose to believe he’ll treat me with medicine when he’s just as likely to poison me? What’s a nightcrawler get from helping the Guard? He’d get more from slittin’ our throats! I don’t believe it for a minute.” Several hollers in agreement followed. 

“The leech has a track record of good behavior, I know for a fact he’s spared a number of you,” he reminded several downcast faces. “If altruism’s a side effect of whatever scheme he’s plotting, I’m willin’ to play ball for the time bein’. This ain’t ’n olive branch, it’s strategy.”

“It’s madness-” 

“-It’s utilizing an offered service. One we can’t afford to pass up,” he shut the offender down quickly. The instant they started to question his sanity would be the instant all was lost. “The decision’s been made. Reid’ll be here with the moonrise and I expect all of you to be ready. Stay sharp. Stay alert. And for God’s sake, keep your mouths shut.”

When Reid did arrive the night was young and the men had not yet gathered, for which McCullum was grateful. He’d prefer to introduce the doctor to the crew personally, rather than let the brazen fool walk in of his own accord, which is why he’d given instructions for his cadets to post up outside the building to keep an eye out. The doctor had hesitated in the street for a moment before they accosted him with guns drawn and faces unfriendly, but they held their fire and Reid held his fangs as he was ushered inside. He’d had half a mind to go in through a window again to spare himself the trouble. 

His entourage marched him upstairs to McCullum’s office directly rather than leave him attended by less than five armed mercenaries, and throughout the halls they passed others who balked overtly at Reid, their faces either paling in distress or flushing with anger, and though none said a word directly he could hear their whispers and unsubtle prayers. McCullum’s office stood at the far end of the corridor on the second story behind a grand oak door, solid and sturdy as the man himself, and one of Reid’s escorts banged on it firmly. 

“Ay?” the familiar accent called.

“Sir, the… doctor has arrived,” the cadet answered through the door without taking his eyes from the man in question. Reid matched his gaze politely. He wagered the humans couldn’t, but his keen hearing picked up on the steady cadence of the commander’s light footfall until the door swung open and the man’s brows raised at the sight of him. 

“So he has,” he said in way of greeting, “you’ve got everything you’ll need?” 

“I do,” Reid replied.

McCullum nodded and stepped into the hall. “Let’s get to it then, ‘fore they start a riot.”

“Have you noticed any recent fever? Any chills or unexplained body aches?” Reid prompted the young recruit sitting on the table in front of him. The doctor pushed lightly on the boy’s eyebrow to pull his eye open wide as he swung a small pen light across the pupil. The boy sat shirtless and scrawny and did not answer immediately, only blinking dumbly when Reid released his brow. 

“Ahm, I don’ think so sir,” he replied. Reid placed his stethoscope to the young man’s chest and rested his other hand between his shoulder blades. The boy shivered at the cool touch and goosebumps pricked his arms that made the skin around his new shoulder stitches taut and sting.

“Breath deeply for me,” Reid instructed. The recruit took a steady breath, in and out, before Reid moved the bell of his scope and the boy took another.

“Very good,” Reid praised him and sat back on his stool. “You’re in good health, I expect the bite to heal well enough on its own. Keep it covered and clean and the stitches may be removed in no less than a week,” he told him. The boy nodded.

“Tank ya, doctor,” he mumbled sheepishly to the floor, and though the lad didn’t catch it Reid gave him a small encouraging smile. 

When the young recruit had redressed and melted back into the throng of men gathered on the far side of the foyer, McCullum materialized at his side, arms crossed and mug mean. He always looked so ready for a fight Reid wanted to roll his eyes, but instead gave a dazzling smile just to see if he could rile him. McCullum scowled at the show but didn’t rise to the bait. “They’re calmer than I thought they’d be,” he noted. 

“Mm, I was surprised as well,” Reid replied candidly tucking the stethoscope back into his bag. The commander watched without comment, and Reid wondered if he had a point to make or if he just enjoyed looming over him like a jailer over an inmate. He looked tense, with stiff shoulders and a straight back, and the doctor matched his discomfort. He, stressed over allowing a leech into his operations, and Reid, a vampire in a den of hunters. Neither much wanted him to be here.

Jonathan gave Geoffrey a transparent once-over. “Remove your shirt.” 

McCullum blinked at him. “Bite my arse,” he prompted instead. 

“Charming, but I’d like to examine your wound as well while I’m here.”

“It’s fine,” he dismissed predictably. 

“I’m sure it is, but I didn’t go out of my way to fix you just to have you fall ill again. Have you removed the stitches yet?”

McCullum shifted his weight but answered truthfully. “No. I was getting to it.”

Jonathan sat back and motioned to the table the young lad had vacated. “Sit.”

“I don’ need help pullin’ thread,” the commander insisted, irked. 

“I would never imply, but I am already here,” Reid reasoned. “Your men are brave enough to be seen, should their leader not lead by example?” McCullum needn’t follow the doctor’s indicative gaze, he could feel the stares on his back and the whispers were numerous enough that they were far from surreptitious. 

“Don’t push yer luck, toff,” he bristled. He hated reasoning with a vampire, and he hated it more when a vampire was right, so he allowed himself a modicum of pettiness and glared the doctor down as he shrugged out of his coat and pulled the scarf from round his neck. The button up shirt followed until only his hole-riddled wife-beater remained and he felt as though the eyes of his men would burn a dozen more in it with how fiercely their blatant stares struck him. 

Jonathan scooted close as Geoffrey crossed his arms to pull the hem of his shirt over his head and his look felt anything but professional as he watch him undress without so much as glancing away. Geoffrey supposed he wouldn’t have wanted to turn his back to a hunter either. If a temporary deprivation of privacy was his penance for allowing a leech into headquarters, he reckoned he’d fared through worse. 

“It’s healing nicely all things considered,” Jonathan fell back into his professional persona as he leaned closer, “though it will leave a nasty scar.”

“Can’t be helped,” McCullum said unbothered. Jonathan tended to the stitches in silence and removed them quicker than he’d sewn them, and when he was finished he inspected the pinkish scar, a startling blush of color swirled across pale skin. Geoffrey kept his glare straight ahead even as deceptively delicate fingers traced the outline of the mark, but the cold that sunk deep into his stomach unsteadied him and it mirrored the featherlight dusting of goosebumps that rippled across his chest. “All done then?” he cleared his throat and shuffled from the table, but his boots had hardly hit the floor before Reid was standing in front of him with a hand pressed to his shoulder. Unable to stand with the doctor blocking the way, Geoffrey sat stock still and gripped the table’s edge as Reid’s fingertips trailed up to ghost over the twin dots that decorated the hunter’s throat, and his long fingers cupped around the back of his neck like a collar. The pad of his thumb swept repetitively over the faint scar tissue.

“It seems these will scar as well,” he said as if he were speaking only to himself, the volume of his voice seeming unnaturally loud to McCullum’s ear, and the man swallowed thickly. 

“…Can’t be helped,” he parroted himself in a hushed tone, an echo of his previous spirit. He still refused to meet Reid’s eyes, though he could feel them searching his. When Jonathan’s thumb applied the faintest of pressure to his jaw, McCullum almost allowed him to turn his head like a doll’s before the intimacy broke his nerve and he rolled his chin away from the doctor’s grasp. Reid’s coziness was making him forget himself. There was a line here that the leech was intentionally blurring, and it was all the more reason for McCullum to stay wary and on guard before he slipped into a sense of security that would no doubt be the death of him. Reid had an angle, he just hadn’t yet figured out what. 

“I need to dispatch patrols,” he mumbled and forced himself to look at the vampire sternly. Jonathan’s expression was neutral, but contrary to popular belief McCullum wasn’t stupid, and he didn’t trust it for a moment. There was depth to those eyes he didn’t ever want to see the bottom of. 

“I take it I’m dismissed as well then?”

“As you were, so long as I passed yer little fitness tests,” Geoffrey taunted. 

“All appearances suggest you’re the perfect specimen,” Reid said pleasantly. And just like that, the strange chill in the air had vanished as quickly as it had come. Geoffrey, a petulant, gruff ruffian with a tongue as sharp as his blade, and Reid, a cheeky, arrogant bastard with a wit quicker than his shadows. 

“Don’t expect flattery to get you anywhere with me, beastie,” McCullum cautioned, but the smirk on his face belayed the warning. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jonathan replied as he watched McCullum dress and refasten the scarf loosely over the imprints of his own teeth. “But don’t expect your ungrateful attitude to dissuade me from checking up on you either.” The hunter eyed him over his popped collar while he fussed with straightening his coat, and although a reluctant thank you pooled behind his lips no sound managed to break through the seal. “But for the time being, I’ll leave you to your nightly affairs,” Reid bid him farewell. He secured his bag and took his leave, and had made it to the door before McCullum stopped him with a word. 

“Reid,” he called impulsively and the vampire turned with fingers on the handle. Still Geoffrey was compelled to speak, and yet still nothing suitable came to mind, no words apt for the particularity of their circumstances, and so nodded instead with a stiff lip and hard eyes. “Until next time.”

Even from a distance McCullum couldn’t mistake the twitch of the man’s lip, a light smirk that grated on the hunter even more than a full blown grin, but Reid only nodded back and ducked out the door and into the darkness of the night.


	4. Mother Knows Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan makes a trip back home, but a surprise encounter and a stubborn mother might complicate their spot of evening tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure I'll get around to proof reading this eventually

Jonathan hadn’t seen hide nor perfectly pomaded hair of his adopted hunter in the month following their encounter at the theater, and Jonathan had to wonder if the man was avoiding him. McCullum had taken it upon himself to keep tabs on Jonathan, allegedly for the sake of London’s safety, and Jonathan allowed himself to be shadowed from a distance so long as McCullum kept his crossbow bolts to himself. So far, the arrangement seemed to be working well enough for the both of them; Reid able to tend to the citizens and roam the city freely, and McCullum able to ensure Reid wasn’t indulging in any unsavory midnight snacks. The more he was able to learn about the leech the better he reasoned, as information was an invaluable weapon, and he never knew when he might need to take the doctor down.  
  
Every time McCullum had run into Reid, whether by true chance or he had purposely sought him out, Reid knew well in advance that the hunter had arrived. He never missed the presence of a nearby heartbeat and McCullum’s he’d grown to recognize all too well, a slow and steady thing.  
  
But lately, he’d felt nothing. Sensed no presence out of the ordinary and heard no unexpected heart beating just out of sight, hidden in the shadows he commanded. Reid often wondered if the hunter was truly unaware of his knowledge of McCullum’s presence, or if, on the other hand, he knew all along. He wondered if he wanted Jonathan to know he was there, watching, waiting, just out of reach.  
  
He’d thought about McCullum nearly every night for almost a week now, wondering if this would be the evening they would meet again, if McCullum would threaten his life for the thousandth time or tease him and joke about as if they were old high school rivals. Reid actually tended to like the little impromptu heart-to-hearts they’d had the handful of times McCullum hadn’t threatened to stake him to a tree for the morning sun to find.  
  
But alas, another night had come and gone, the moon would be setting in a few more hours and Jonathan was left to ponder what could be keeping the hunter so busy he couldn’t be bothered to go patrolling. Certain no one was near, Reid braced himself and leapt to the crumbling roof of the building across the street, taking a shortcut through Whitechapel back to the Pembroke. He needed to pay a visit to his aging mother soon. He worked the next night, but the following he would make good on past promises.  
  
He steadied himself on the far side of the decrepit roof and made another leap to the neighboring building, swiftly making his way across the city in no time at all. He touched down to cross the northern bridge at the Pembroke outskirts and walked the remainder of the way. At the top of the scaffold he took one last look out across the muddied city streets, streetlights dotting veins of warm gold through the cold grey expanse, and he shut the door behind him.

  


The next night had been just as uneventful, another round of patient interviews and another feud between colleagues, but no news he supposed was good news. It was the night after that that he’d been able to take the time to finally set foot back in the West End, where Clarence greeted him nervously.  
  
“Good evening, Clarence. How are you?” Reid asked him sincerely.  
  
“I’m holding up as well as I ever do, Johnny,” he replied. “How’re you? How’s your mum?” He asked in return.  
  
“She’s well, thank you. I’m on my way to see her now.”  
  
“Give her my regards. Been meaning to drop in and say hello, just haven’t found the time.”  
  
“Of course, she’ll be delighted to hear from you,” Reid assured him and moved along. Since Clarence’s fixation on vampires had come to light he’d entertained thoughts of telling his oldest friend about his true nature, but he had never been able to summon the courage. He still wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do or if it would only drive the man further into his obsession, but seeing Clarence as he was now tore Jonathan up inside. He breathed deeply and let out a tired breath. It was a decision for another night. He continued on.  
  
He passed by the old theater and spared it a glance. No guards stood outside, and if he didn’t know any better he’d say it was empty, though he could sense the blood thrumming throughout the base. He focused his breath and strained his senses, wondering if he could make out any familiar rhythms, but recognized none. He turned to go.

  


When he arrived on his mother’s doorstep he felt the cold familiar ache of nostalgia slide between his ribs, but still he climbed the stairs and rapped the back of his knuckles across the door before going to let himself in.  
  
“Reid,” he heard from behind him.  
  
Jonathan stopped to look around but felt the heartbeat before he saw the man leaning against the wall of the overarching alley, smoking a cigarette with the sole of his boot pressed to the wall and his free hand shoved deep in his coat pocket. A human would never have spotted him enveloped in shadow as he was, and Jonathan having been lost in his thoughts would’ve walked right past him.  
  
“McCullum,” he lilted with a cock of his head. “What brings you here?”  
  
“Patrols, a course,” he answered. “Not that it’s business to the likes a you,” he added and flicked his cigarette butt off into the distance. He put his foot back to the ground and shoved his other hand in his pocket as he walked to the bottom of the steps. “What’re you doin’ here, nightcrawler?”  
  
Jonathan looked at him flatly, just short of a glare. “I live here, thank you,” he deadpanned. He did take some gratification at the puzzled look on McCullum’s face as he regarded the building before them, his bottom lip pursed and his eyebrows knit. It wasn’t a look the man wore often.  
  
“Hard to remember you had-”  
  
McCullum was interrupted by the front door cracking open, just a sliver, but he could see past where Reid stood to where a frail looking woman with a bun of silver hair and an expensive looking coat peaked through the gap.  
  
“Oh, Jonathan! It is so good to see you,” she breathed and pulled the door back wide enough to rest her eyes on Geoffrey, and he was shocked to notice their familiar pale blue hue. “And you’ve brought a friend, how wonderful! Do come in,” she begged of them.  
  
“Ah, thank you ma’am, but I was only passin’ through,” McCullum began at the same moment Reid interjected “Oh, I’m afraid Geoffrey can’t stay long, Mother…” They both fell abruptly silent together but Emelyne Reid was unperturbed.  
  
“Come, come, inside both of you!” she urged them, and though her words were sweet and a smile graced her wrinkled face, she brooked no argument. Jonathan opened his mouth, unsure yet of what he’d say, but Mrs. Reid had already turned away and was wandering down the hallway, leaving the door open to the street.  
  
Jonathan looked to Geoffrey intending to speak but paused at the equally bewildered look on the man’s own face, and Jonathan shut his mouth again. Instead he followed his mother inside and left the door open behind him, and left Geoffrey to make a choice. 

  


Inside the Reid manor, Geoffrey McCullum stood near the entryway with his back straight, chin up, and his arms at his sides like a soldier in a line up. He took in every detail, to the china in the cabinets lining the large sitting room to the wall of windows overlooking the main street, which would coincidentally be his fastest route of escape should things go sideways.  
  
He felt out of place and terribly exposed, but at the very least Jonathan seemed to share in his discomfort. It seemed the leech intended to ignore him completely, for which McCullum found himself grateful. “So, Mother, how have you been? Where is Avery? Why didn’t he answer the door?” Jonathan asked sitting on the sofa across from the frail woman.  
  
“Oh, Avery is upstairs in the bath. He works so hard, and he’s so good to me,” she said dreamily as she sipped the last of her tea. “Jonathan, darling, would you be a dear and fix the kettle? I’m afraid my tea’s gone cold.”  
  
Jonathan’s eyes flicked to McCullum for the first time since they’d entered the home, but he obliged his mother nonetheless and left them for the kitchen. McCullum cursed every moment in his life that had led him to this point, stuck in a vampire’s home with his elderly mother for no reason other than the unyielding niceties of societal convention. The woman casted her pale ghostly eyes upon him and the hint of a smile that danced across her thin lips threatened to freeze his spine from top to bottom.  
  
“Are you like my Jonathan?” She asked him without preamble. McCullum tensed impossibly more. How much did the woman know? He cleared his throat.  
  
“We don’t have much in common, ma’am,” he said. He wasn’t a man to lie when he could help it.  
  
“Are you dead, too?” She asked flatly. A beat of silence followed before she continued, “my dear Aubrey, my sweet Mary, and then my poor Jonathan… They all visit from time to time, but Jonathan is the one with the eyes of the departed.”  
  
And if McCullum knew what to say to that, his brain was unhelpful in supplying the words.  
  
“No, I’m not dead,” he murmured instead.  
  
“That’s lovely,” said Mrs. Reid. “But where are my manners? I am Emelyne Reid. You haven’t introduced yourself, young man,” she chided. McCullum cleared his throat again.  
  
“Pardon me, ma’am, my name is Geoffrey McCullum,” he introduced himself politely. Anyone else would’ve called it sheepish.  
  
“That’s a nice name,” she smiled at him, “I’m so glad Johnny has found a confidant. I sense he’s been so lonely since his return from the war. Come, Geoffrey, sit and tell me how he’s getting along. There’s so much he feels he can’t share with me.”  
  
McCullum would rather have lingered with his back to the wall, closer to the door and away from the conversation, but he still sat across the coffee table from the woman on the far end of the lavish leather sofa. The armchair she occupied seemed to be her regularly appointed spot.  
  
“I should really be getting back to my duties, Mrs. Reid,” McCullum tried again.  
  
“Posh,” she huffed, “you sound just like Johnny. Are you a doctor as well?” She asked raising her empty teacup to her lips.  
  
“No, I’m… a soldier,” he explained as vaguely as possible. He didn’t shy away from his title as leader of the Guard, but there was something overly hurtful in telling this delicate elderly woman that he hunted down and terminated monsters. Monsters like her own son. She didn’t seem convinced.  
  
“Jonathan always used work as an excuse to ignore everything else,” she told him putting down the empty cup. “I always tried to encourage him to reach out to people, but he would tell me he was much too busy. A mother worries, you know.”  
  
“…Ay,” McCullum said for lack of anything better.  
  
“He’s a good man.”  
  
“…Ay.”  
  
But Mrs. Reid’s train of thought was long gone, out the window along with her thousand yard stare, and silence swaddled them again. McCullum wanted to consider this an opportunity, a chance to delve deep into the leech’s private life, learn secrets and vulnerabilities, but no questions arose in his mind worth voicing.  
  
“Was he always like this?” The thought had been nagging at him, never knowing how much of Reid was Jonathan and how much of him was empty vessel replenished with a newfound self. How much of the man had been left behind in that mass grave? How much of him was a new man draped in old skin?  
  
Mrs. Reid’s eyes rolled to him with exaggerated slowness, as if she had no control over her movements.  
  
“What’s that dear?”  
  
“Has he always been like this? Or has he changed much? Since his return to England?” He reiterated. Mrs. Reid looked pensive.  
  
“He was such a happy child, he and Mary. Their father would take them to the park every Sunday where they could play and explore. He loved exploring. But Johnny had always had a darkness to him. His father once described it as a hard black stone deep in his chest. I think it’s grown since he’s been back, but I can’t blame him for it, with everything that’s happened.” Those damned eyes, so familiar to McCullum now were jarring staring out at him from a different face, but they were just as piercing. “But he’s still just as kind. He puts others first, without fail. It makes him sweet, but I think it keeps him from finding his own happiness.”  
  
“Have you noticed anything odd about him lately? Anything strange?”  
  
“Strange? He’s a strange man, Mr. McCullum. A very strange man indeed. People think he’s too serious, a bit closed off, even more so these days, but I think it’s the profession. He has much love to give, but I don’t think he knows what to do with it. It makes him a brilliant physician, but a lonely man.”  
  
Mrs. Reid seemed a well of information, and McCullum wagered she’d be willing to talk about her darling Jonathan for hours on end, had the doctor not chosen then to enter holding an ornate wooden tray table displaying a simple metal teapot and three fragile looking teacups. He set it down on the coffee table between the two while casting cautious glances at them both. He poured three fresh cups and handed one to his mother with care who accepted it gratefully. As Mrs. Reid occupied the only singular armchair, Jonathan took a seat silently beside McCullum on the couch, trying his utmost not to appear as tense as he felt. He took a cup as well and McCullum noted amusedly that he added two sugar cubes to the brew before he raised it to his lips in show. He hadn’t realized he was staring until he cut his gaze away to see Mrs. Reid looking at him pointedly with her own cup raised. McCullum cleared his throat awkwardly and took the remaining cup to satisfy her, sniffing it dubiously before sipping. 

  


Not for the first time that night McCullum was hit all over again with the absurdity of his situation. The leader of the Guard of Priwen did not drink tea with vampires. Or their mothers. But he hadn’t moved from the couch, and neither Dr. nor Mrs. Reid seemed inclined to wrap things up anytime soon. Mother and son talked about idle things and McCullum was able to escape the prying questions by sitting back and sipping his tea like a good young man, and it wasn’t until Mrs. Reid had drained her second cup that she seemed to recall he was there at all.  
  
“So Geoffrey,” she addressed him to Geoffrey’s dismay, “how did you and Jonathan meet?” McCullum took a moment to choose his words carefully and was all too aware of both pairs of eyes on him.  
  
“I had business at the Pembroke. Rei- Jonathan was working the night shift.” Jonathan smirked at the use of his name but didn’t interrupt. “Just kind of kept runnin’ into him after that,” he spoke honestly. Mrs. Reid pursed her lips.  
  
“Well, not exactly Romeo and Juliet, but I’m glad you’re finally giving more thought to settling down, dear,” Mrs. Reid looked to Jonathan as she spoke. “Your sister was six years your junior and still married first.”  
  
The silence that followed was absolutely deafening, the only sound in the house the gentle clicking of the pendulum of a grandfather clock, ticking away unnaturally loudly from the other room. McCullum was certain he’d misheard and Jonathan was certain his mother had finally slipped from mild memory loss into to full scale dementia.  
  
“I- Mother, no, that’s not, Geoffrey is- _we_ are not-” he stuttered out before McCullum could process a word. He wanted to run, to storm out and forget this evening ever happened, he wanted to yell and growl and curse, but perhaps even more he wanted to laugh. Laugh at the senile old woman, laugh at the circumstances, and laugh at the astonished look still marring the doctor’s handsome face. He felt he was going mad. This whole night had been one insanity filled daydream after another and this was only one of the many straws that threatened to break the camel’s back. If Jonathan’s look could be called indignant, McCullum’s could only be described as sulking. Jonathan snuck a glance at him and could only guess at just how enraged he really was, but he’d yet to say a word in his own defense. The silence that swallowed them again was just as stifling to the two men as before but Mrs. Reid still took no notice.  
  
“I suppose everything works out in the end,” she mused, “and you seem like a proper gentleman,” she informed McCullum despite his dour face.  
  
“Well, it’s grown late, and you should get some rest-” Jonathan cut in and quickly stood, before the rabbit hole he’d found himself in suddenly dropped off into a bottomless abyss. McCullum took his cue to rise as well and set his half empty cup back on the tray next to Jonathan’s full one.  
  
“Though I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t have loved more grandchildren-”  
  
“-I’ll drop by again next week! Tell Avery I said hello!” He spoke over her as he pressed a firm hand between McCullum’s shoulder blades to steer him faster towards the door. Where once the man would’ve taken issue at the manhandling McCullum had no qualms about being pushed along from the room as quickly as possible.  
  
“Goodbye Mrs. Reid, was lovely t’meet ya,” he called to her monotonously and caught a glimpse at her pleasant smile before he was out the door and out of sight.


	5. The Healer and the Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killing has never come easily to the doctor, even as a vampire, so if there's a chance he can convince the leader of the Guard of Priwen to lay down his arms, you can bet your blood he's going to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will finally have some of that mysterious "romance" thing I've been hearing so much about

“Geoffrey listen to me,” he pleaded stalking closer, and though his tone was commanding his true desperation lie just beneath the thin veneer of composure. McCullum set his crossbow sight square over Reid’s chest and stopped his advance cold.  
  
“Stand down, Leech,” he ordered just as firmly. Jonathan’s tense expression did not change, but he took another daring step forward.  
  
“No,” he challenged.  
  
McCullum raised his arm higher, accentuating the bow trained on the vampire’s dead heart.  
  
“Back. Away. Now,” he warned with finality and gravel in his voice. Jonathan moved no closer, but did not back away, and instead raised his hands in an attempt to conciliate.  
  
“McCullum please.” They were close enough now that even in the faint light of the grimy sewers McCullum could see the blue of his eyes and the concern within them, but his arm didn’t waver.  
  
“This doesn’ have ta be the night you die, Reid. The choice is yours. Now move, before I make it for ya.” The hunter watched Reid’s face grow from restrained trepidation into something much harsher, from defensive to offensive, he couldn’t help but think. Where before he mainly looked distressed, now all that showed was an angry determination and profound disappointment.  
  
“You won’t survive,” Reid said with certainty. “And if you did, your men wouldn’t. I won’t stand idle and let you slaughter these Skal without cause-”  
  
“Being Skal is all the cause I need,” McCullum interjected.  
  
“Your men will die here if you go through with this. Even if you won, you’d destroy yourself,” Reid continued.  
  
The militia at McCullum’s back shuffled uneasily, the front line all with guns trained on the Ekon blocking their descent further into the London sewers. “You’re not a cruel man, Geoffrey, I know you wouldn’t send a man to his death for nothing. Turn back, leave these creatures in peace.”  
  
“To what end?” McCullum seethed. “Until they decide the sewers aren’t big enough? I’m s’pose to wait until I find the next body in the street? I don’t think so, Reid. We’ll put them down now, before innocents get hurt.”  
  
“They are the innocent!” Reid exclaimed incredulously. “Sentient beings, McCullum! They think, and they feel, and they reason! You have no right to take that away from them.”  
  
“I have every right,” the hunter argued, “it’s predator and prey, doctor. Simple as that. Only the Guard is turnin’ the tables. Now it’s the predator that needs protecting from the prey.”  
  
“Then I’m the one that will protect them,” Reid stated. “I won’t let you pass. You and I both know your men can’t stand against me, I don’t want to hurt them.”“Then get outta the way dammut!” Geoffrey cried finally throwing his arms out in exasperation and dropping the bow from Reid’s chest.  
  
“McCullum please,” Jonathan’s voice lowered into pleading again. “You don’t have to do this. You can’t defeat me-” the weapons of McCullum’s men faltered and some let them drop to their sides “-you’d be spilling pointless blood of boys with long lives ahead of them, don’t send them to their demises.”  
  
McCullum didn’t like the sense the leech was spewing. He trusted his men could handle a hoard of Skal, even an infestation’s worth, but Reid hadn’t factored in to the equation and it shook his confidence. If he charged forward, his men would follow. That much he knew. But Reid was right when he’d said undue blood would be shed. The doctor alone could take out half his crew, and McCullum with it, and then where would they be when they finally reached the true nest that was their initial target? McCullum had only survived Reid’s wrath by chance and mercy, defeated even with the advantage of false sunlight, and he had a growing suspicion that he still hadn’t seen the full extent of what the doctor could really do. It always seemed like the leech was holding back.  
  
“These people will not harm you,” Reid cut through his tortured thoughts. “They only wish to exist in peace. That’s why they’re here, to avoid confrontation. They just want to be left alone.” Reid still held his hands up placatingly, his knees slightly bent to match McCullum’s fighting stance, and he watched McCullum struggle with himself with urgent eyes.  
  
“Please Geoffrey,” he begged, “trust me.”  
  
McCullum grimaced and nearly flinched. He wanted to rage. As if his faith could ever rest easy in the hands of a bloodsucker, especially one so silver-tongued and cunning. There was nothing worse than a smart leech, which in McCullum’s opinion made Reid the most dangerous of them all, able to manipulate and coerce like he was born for it, and even if he sounded as sincere as a saint, that’s what leeches do. It only takes one lie to set the trap and the next thing McCullum would know would be the noose cinching tight around his neck. Fuck it all, it’d been so simple before this wild card had stepped onto the board and now suddenly all the game pieces had been scattered to the wind and the board had been set on fire. Once there wouldn’t have been any question, no hesitation in his mind as to his course of action, but he was between a rock and a hard place now, and he saw few options if he wanted his men to ever see the light of day again.  
  
The soldiers must have sensed their leader’s doubt and most were side eyeing him nervously, all of them twitchy and anxious on shifting feet. Most still had pistols aimed at the doctor blocking the tunnel in front of them, but some had abandoned the premise completed and only waited for direction with bated breath. McCullum’s face was pained as he waved them off, but he wiped his expression clean quickly and regarded the vampire with his last remaining shred of authority.  
  
“We need to talk, Reid. I won’t leave things like this.”  
  
Jonathan nodded sternly and McCullum gave the order for his men to retreat back to the local base, leaving his general in charge of the fray.

  


Everything was fine, Jonathan reasoned with himself. McCullum was the leader of a powerful faction of the London underground, surely he handled negotiation meetings like this all the time. With benefactors and such perhaps. Jonathan needn’t be so on edge, they were only talking through details and drawing lines in the sand.  
  
They’d been so close to drawing swords that Jonathan’s nerves were still buzzing, and he bounced his leg anxiously as he sat opposite McCullum at the small round table furnishing the otherwise empty hideout he’d repossessed. It had taken McCullum a moment to settle down too, as he’d immediately taken to pacing the length of the room as soon as he’d set foot inside. Jonathan wagered he likely wasn’t too comfortable in a leech’s hideout, but he knew first hand that he’d been stuck in worse positions. When McCullum finally deigned to sit, Jonathan took it upon himself to start.  
  
“Thank you for agreeing to talk this over,” he began. McCullum grunted, so he continued. “I meant it when I said the Skals mean you no harm. Not you nor anyone else. They’ve been living peacefully below for decades and disrupting them would only cause further damage.”  
  
“Their residing so close to humans is a disgrace and it’s dangerous.”  
  
“Dangerous to whom, I wonder? They don’t leave the sewers, and subsist off of corpses and carcasses, which, need I remind you, are never in short supply.”  
  
“Until it is, or they decide to expand their palette. Leeches are unstable, they always snap eventually and when they do that nest will be the tidal wave London never saw comin’. And it’ll be on me if I didn’t stop it when I had the chance.”  
  
“More so than the murder of dozens of intelligent beings? They can speak, McCullum, they’re within their right minds. It’s not the same as putting down a rabid dog, if you’re going to talk about killing off an entire populace, call it what it is. Call it murder. Call it _genocide_ ,” the doctor spat.  
  
“I couldn’t give less of a fuck what you call it,” McCullum snapped, “there is a bomb beneath this city’s streets and there’s no tellin’ when it’ll blow, but mark my words, Reid, it will.”  
  
“You don’t know that McCullum, you haven’t seen anything like them before. They’re not the same as the feral beasts that plague the streets! You’re blinded by you own narrative.”  
  
“My eyes are open because I’ve seen it for myself!” he shouted and rose to his feet so quickly his chair tumbled over behind him with a clatter. Jonathan tensed and saw the hunter’s chest heave a single heavy breath before he wrangled back his control. He looked at Jonathan darkly.  
  
“They all turn eventually, I’ve seen the disease take stronger men.” He muttered. Jonathan gauged him cautiously.  
  
“…What do you mean?” he pressed gently in a hushed tone.  
  
“It took my mother. And my Da. And when it took my brother, I took him myself.” McCullum’s voice was low and cold and had the grit of a man already three whiskeys deep. Jonathan looked at him sorrowfully.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Reid consoled him, “I didn’t know.” McCullum scowled but brushed him off.  
  
“Well now you do,” he said and paused a beat to pull a tarnished cigarette case from his inner coat pocket, “so you’ll have to forgive me if I ain’t too fuckin’ keen on forgivin’.” He lit up and ignored Reid’s invasive gaze until he couldn’t bear it any longer.  
  
“Don’t give me that fuckin’ look,” he spat. “I don’t need to see pity of all things in those dead eyes a yours.”  
  
“It’s empathy, Geoffrey,” he told him mildly. He looked at the floor wistfully and questioned how far would be too far. “I suppose we’ve both had our families torn apart by vampires.”  
  
The hunter huffed and blew smoke at the ceiling. “Real birds of a feather,” he joked and Reid smiled slightly. Neither spoke for a while, but the situation suddenly didn’t seem so pressing, and the silence not so uncomfortable. McCullum had rightened his chair and sat back at the table and continued to smoked while Reid gazed out the window to his left, his elbows on the table and hands folded in front of his mouth. McCullum looked over to him and blew a stream of smoke in his direction.  
  
“How’d you know where to find us?” he asked. Reid turned back to him and spoke over his hands.  
  
“You brought an army with you. Threescore heartbeats twenty meters below the ground was hard to miss. When I recognized it was you leading the charge, I assumed you had found them.”  
  
“Recognized me? From my heartbeat? At twenty meters through concrete?” McCullum narrowed his eyes at the doctor, who gave an indifferent shrug.  
  
“They’re not like other Skals,” he rounded back again. “They’re just tired and frightened.”  
  
“All leeches are corrupt, it’s just a question of degree.”  
  
“And what degree am I?” McCullum wrinkled his nose as he blew smoke out the side of his twisted mouth.  
  
“You’re on thin enough ice as it is, Reid. Don’t push your luck,” he warned.  
  
“Maybe I’m feeling lucky,” he challenged. “Why am I any different from the rest?”  
  
“You’re not,” McCullum lied, “a leech is a leech is a leech.” He leaned back in his chair and blew more smoke to the ceiling.  
  
“Maybe not, but I think that you think I am. Why would you be sitting here talking to me if you didn’t consider me unique from other vampires? Even now you’re baring your throat to me,” Jonathan pointed out, and McCullum whipped his gaze down from the ceiling to glare at him venomously, concealing his neck again.  
  
Jonathan wasn’t smiling, but he was looking at him like he was an equation on a chalkboard he just couldn’t wrap his head around. But he also had a point. McCullum never let his guard down around nightcrawlers, but there were times he had to reprimand himself for falling too lax around Reid. Leaning back and looking away enough to show his throat to a leech without even realizing it was a crossed line he didn’t know how to come back from. It dawned on him slowly then, what it all really meant. Somewhere along the line he had stopped acknowledging Reid as a leech. He had stopped recognizing him as a threat. It didn’t make any sense, he thought with rising panic. He knew the power the man contained, it was present in everything about him and everything he did, and yet McCullum had stopped thinking of him as a harbinger of pestilence and had started thinking of him as… a person. He felt nauseous. He also realized he hadn’t replied and that his silence was telling.  
  
“You’re useful,” he offered a bit quieter than he’d intended and Reid gave a single dry chuckle. McCullum glared and turned the question around on him. “Alright, you tell me then. Why’re you so special?” Reid raised his eyebrows and blinked.  
  
“I think everyone has something that makes them special,” he said.  
  
“You know what I meant,” McCullum grumbled irritably. Jonathan sighed but still dug deep for an answer.  
  
“I can’t rightly say,” he started, “perhaps it’s my lineage. Perhaps my will is stronger than I’d realized.”  
  
“Will can only get ya so far. My father was a man of wills if I ever seen one and even he succumbed.”  
  
“Then perhaps it’s the fact that all creatures, even vampire, are distinct individuals. No two alike.” McCullum didn’t have an answer to that. He suddenly didn’t feel like arguing anymore. 

  


“Sir, have you any orders?” McCullum’s general asked when the leader returned to base. A few stragglers lingered in the common room where the general had immediately accosted McCullum, but most of the crew had turned in early for the night.  
  
“Ay, back on standard schedule tomorrow night,” he told the soldier.  
  
“But what’ve the sewers, sir?” He asked as the hunter shrugged out of his coat.  
  
“The sewers’ll be back burner fer now. We’ll need to reevaluate our position, but I’ve made arrangements for the time bein’,” he assured. The other man looked unconvinced but didn’t follow when McCullum pushed past him and up the stairs to his private room.  
  
Behind a heavy locked door McCullum allowed himself a tremendously cathartic sigh, and it left him so empty he felt as if his ribs might collapse. He threw his coat over the desk chair, undressed, slinked beneath the blanket atop the feeble cot to bury his face in the thinning pillow, and let the thoughts come to him.  
  
It had been a stressful night, he concluded, and it hadn’t gone close to how he’d planned. The skals were still down there, dangerous and unchecked, but they weren’t as concerning as he first thought they were when the Guard had caught wind of them a month ago.  
  
Why had Reid gone after him? What does he care whether skals lived or died? What does it matter to him whether McCullum and his men lived or died? What stake did he have in the game? McCullum could think of no reason for the Ekon to give a damn other than to take the doctor at his word; Reid cared for others, pure and simple. He was loathe to admit it, but it was the most straightforward explanation. It accounted for everything about the doctor; his profession, his disposition, his willingness to take to the streets to defend the weak, and didn’t that sound familiar?  
  
McCullum rolled with a violence onto his back and stared up at the ceiling then pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes when it gave him no answers. _Birds of a feather,_ he had said. He had told him about his family, and about his brother. He had agreed Reid was different, that he was _special._ And he had come to realize he had developed a begrudging sense of respect for him. He sighed deeply again and let his hands drop to his sides, defeated, as he waited for sleep to claim him. He resigned himself to a presumably long and restless night, and when sleep did eventually come, it came with vivid dreams.


	6. The Rats in the Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCullum is forced to come to terms with his subconscious and Reid proposes a plan to save a civilian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter that I didn't have a whole lot of time to edit! Enjoy!  
> This felt a little contrived but I'm hoping to smooth it all out later

Geoffrey groaned and squinted against the pain in his head, bleeding up from the base of his neck and down into tense shoulders. He dug aggressive fingertips into the meat on either side of his vertebrae trying to loosen the hard muscles and find relief from the dull ache, but the knots were stiff and unyielding. He leaned forward on the couch and focused on relaxing what he could bit by bit when hands much softer than his own slipped across his shoulders, and he found the task of breathing come easier.  


“You’ve been working too hard again,” whispered a beard that tickled across the shell of his ear and sent goosebumps down his arms. A fleeting thought crossed his mind when he realized he hadn’t recalled removing his shirt, but as soon as the thought occurred it no longer seemed important. McCullum didn’t answer but took a deep breath and leaned back against the couch when those diligent fingers pulled him closer and worked themselves into the tender flesh of his shoulders. He hummed his agreement when they climbed the column of his neck and groaned in distressed pleasure when clever thumbs pressed into one of the sorer spots, sighing in relief when the pain melted away as if the man’s fingers were leeching it straight out through his skin.  


“Fuck, that’s good,” he moaned through the onslaught. When the dexterous hands had reduced McCullum’s shoulders to the consistency of mashed potatoes, a gentle kiss pressed itself to his temple and long arms wound over and around his solid chest. Jonathan rested his chin in the dip of McCullum’s shoulder and McCullum craned his neck to capture his lips in a chaste kiss that Jonathan immediately followed up with far less modesty. McCullum smiled against his mouth and hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he opened them again to see Reid lying next to him, chest bare and eyes raking McCullum’s own naked torso. The sheets of the bed were hanging low on Reid’s hips as he lie on his side with his head propped up on his hand, and McCullum was in awe at the sinful picture the man painted, like a renaissance fresco. He reached out and ran a hand through the curling chest hair darkening his unearthly pale skin and Jonathan watched him curiously. Then, just as suddenly, the scene changed again and McCullum lay on his back with Reid’s head pillowed on his chest, his hair tickling Geoffrey’s chin and Geoffrey’s thumb tracing idle circles on the man’s bare shoulder. He smiled to himself as the vampire slept soundly and pressed another kiss to the top of his head. 

  


The hunter rolled over in bed still smiling, warm and content. He hadn’t slept that good in ages and the morning sun that poured into the room and colored the floor a hazy golden hue threatened to lull him back to sleep. He shifted in bed and wondered absently how two grown men could’ve slept so comfortably on such a small cot when his stomach suddenly dropped out from under him and his heart slammed home in his chest. He took a silent moment of horror to assess himself. He was alone in his own room, on his twin sized mattress, undressed save for his boxers and the sun was high in the sky. It was likely around noon he’d wager. He didn’t twitch a muscle as he recalled the night’s events and tried desperately to separate imagination from reality. He had been in the sewers, as had Reid, and he’d followed him back to a rundown house tucked along an unassuming stretch of dock. And then he’d left alone. He had walked back to base by himself and left Reid behind in his own hideout. Nothing had happened.  


McCullum let out the short breath he’d been holding but didn’t feel any lighter as he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling just as he had the night before. It had seemed so real, he thought to himself. Why would he dream something like that? And why had his brain accepted it so readily, even after he’d woken? He grimaced and rolled his legs over the edge of the bed, there was no accounting for the logic of dreams he decided. Better to let it go before he drove himself mad. 

  


Except that that was easier said than done he discovered as he went about his day. Daytime was the time for clerical work when no vampires stalked the streets, the trouble being that paperwork was hard enough to focus on when he had his head on straight, but with his thoughts as tangled as they were he had no hope of making progress with his notes. He settled instead for his journal.  


There was a part of him that was hesitant to put his dream to paper, to allow it to manifest itself in the physical world in any way as a memento of his shame, but he had to get these thoughts sorted and get this sickly feeling out of his body. When he had recounted the dream to the best of his ability, perfunctory and objectively, he slammed the journal shut, stuffed it back in its drawer, and laid his head in his hands to soothe his mounting headache.  


_Why did it have to be him?_

  


The first day had been the worst of it, and in the days that followed the dream had faded around the edges and McCullum could think clearer without being able to recall the feeling of cool lips across his temple or wiry chest hair beneath his fingers. But still it lingered in his periphery. He hadn’t seen the doctor since and the absence made it easier to pretend nothing had changed at all, even if McCullum knew he was kidding himself. Things had been changing for a long time coming and the dream had only kicked things into high gear, the only question being where this runaway train was headed. He’d been able to accept he considered Reid an unlikely ally, but even “friend” was a bit of a stretch. The dream had skipped a few significant steps.  


It was the most infuriating concept McCullum could imagine for himself; being forced to regard Reid as more than a leech, on the same footing as humans, and even more trustworthy and noble than most men he’d met. He was in his own personal private hell. He’d rather off himself than admit the man was anything other than an occasionally helpful nuisance, and if it ever came to light that he’d had… intimate thoughts he would never live it down.  


Perhaps that’s what bothered McCullum the most, he pondered, not the fact that the dream was more than platonic, but that it was romantic. McCullum hadn’t taken pleasure from the other man’s touch in a sexual way, but in an intimate way, where he craved the care and safety laden within the man’s caresses. He’d wanted the doctor for more than a quick tryst and it was because of the fact that it was him specifically. Had it been any woman McCullum wouldn’t have thought anything of it, had it been any other man McCullum would’ve thought it an odd one-off event and moved on with his life, but because it was Reid his stomach had dropped and his heart had seized and he’d wished he could go back to sleep.  


That was the real kicker too, he lamented, that it had been a good morning before the terror had caught up to him, and that his waking brain had accepted Reid’s gentle roaming hands and his heart had found comfort in the memory even in the light of day. He hadn’t minded the idea of waking up next to the good doctor, and had been aggrieved when he’d found himself under scratchy sheets alone.  


He wondered what the leech would do if he knew McCullum was sweating over him like this. The bastard would probably have a field day rubbing his nose in it, but then again, McCullum thought recalling his reaction to Mrs. Reid’s needling, perhaps he’d be more hostile than anything. There was always the chance that he’d be disgusted to hear that McCullum had envisioned him in such a compromising position. He remembered the look on Reid’s face when his mother had so grossly misunderstood the nature of their relationship, but he also recalled his own indignation. He’d been enraged at the woman for sticking her nose in his business, assuming she knew what went on between them, but it occurred to him suddenly that that was where his irritation ended, irked because she spoke of things of which she had no knowledge and not because of the notion itself.  


Truthfully, he couldn’t care less what other’s thought about his love life, it was nobody’s business but his own, but he didn’t care for the doctor. That was the beginning and the end of the matter. The man was a mystery that vexed him to no end and that is from where his fascination stemmed, and it was fascination’s adjacency to infatuation that had gotten his wires crossed somewhere along the way. He couldn’t be enamored with a leech anyway, he reasoned with himself, it went against everything he had ever stood for and every emotion he’d ever had in the face of their kind, and what would his men think? He needed to command his men’s respect above all else, respect which would be much harder to hold if he had a lovesick leech hanging off him.  


But he was getting ahead of himself, the leech was not the lovesick one here- not that he was either, he quickly amended- and it was ridiculous to put this much energy into a fucking nightmare. 

  


The next time Jonathan saw McCullum the vampire wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at, but it appeared as though the hunter was wrist deep in a Vulkod cadaver, pawing through its innards like a dog about to bury a bone. He was muttering to himself and if Jonathan was being honest, the scene looked absolutely deranged. McCullum’s heartbeat thumped steadily in his chest and the hunter didn’t look particularly disconcerted with the turn of events, the only sign he was at all perturbed the deep wrinkle of his brow and the scrunch of his nose.  


“McCullum?” Reid called out to him. McCullum raised his face to look over at the voice and his eyebrows lifted in surprise, but more curiously Jonathan noticed the odd way his heart stuttered a beat and quickened as he approached. Jonathan chalked it up to the circumstances.  


“Reid,” McCullum acknowledged him and returned his eyes to his task.  


“What on Earth are you doing?” Jonathan asked coming to stand over the corpse and observe.  


“Bastard swallowed my knife,” he grumbled as he found the creature’s stomach. He pulled at it from all directions trying to get a grip on the slimy organ but his hands couldn’t keep traction and slipped uselessly on the lining. He looked up at Reid with the blankest expression he could muster and held out his hand, palm up.  


“Scalpel, Nurse,” he ordered ironically.  


“What makes you think I carry scalpels with me?” Reid asked.  


“Do ya not?” McCullum looked up from where he was kneeling with his hand still extended and waited. Reid pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow before he huffed a breath out his nose and retrieved a scalpel from the inner lining of his coat pocket, handing it over without another quip. McCullum smirked and took it, slicing the stomach open with one quick drag.  


“You may make a decent surgeon yet,” Reid mused. McCullum grit his teeth as he felt around inside the still warm sac and pulled a sizable blade from the belly of the beast.  


“Ay, there she be,” he said holding the knife up for Reid as if he needed proof.  


“So she is,” he agreed as McCullum wiped the blade clean on the top of his thigh and made Reid pull a face. The man’s heart flipped strangely again when he stood and faced the doctor fully, and Reid couldn’t pass that one off as situational.  


“Are you feeling alright, McCullum? Do you require medical attention?”  


“Don’t start with me, Reid, I’m fine,” he shut him down quickly. He looked unconvinced but the doctor let it lie. McCullum continued to fuss with his knife and cleared his throat. “So, what’re y’doin’ in this neck a the woods?” he attempted to be conversational without looking at the doctor, but peaked at him from the corner of his eye when he sensed the man look away. He wanted to study him, as if there would be something in his profile that would suddenly click everything into place, as though if he stared long enough he could piece together why this was the face that had haunted his dreams.  


“I was checking on Miss Billow,” Reid told him.  


“Billow? The rat woman?” he asked confused.  


“You know her?”  


“I know of her.”  


“She’s being plagued by a vampire, one very old, and very powerful. I haven’t deduced how to break the link between the two of them quite yet, but I feel I’ve been making progress.”  


“She’s been under a leech’s spell, eh? Fuck, poor thing.”  


“Quite.”  


“How’s your science s’pose to deal with that then?” McCullum asked curiously as he traded his blade for his cigarette case stowed in his inner pocket and Reid smiled wryly.  


“I suppose it’s more the application of the scientific method to the magical art of vampirism. I’m putting my mesmeric powers to the test through trial and error. The trouble arises when the object of my attention is as weak and brittle as Miss Billow’s mind, I fear too much strain on her consciousness will break her beyond repair.”  


“What d’you mean?” he asked as he finally pried the case open and took a cigarette between his lips. He returned the case and patted his pockets in search of a light when Reid pulled out his own, sleek and silver and already lit. McCullum paused in his search and watched the flame dance in Reid’s outstretched hand, and the doctor watched the reflection of the light in the hunter’s deep blue eyes as the man stepped closer and leaned in to cup his hands around Reid’s own to shelter the flame. He angled his head to allow the cigarette to catch and took a drag to burn it down before stepping away.  


“Thanks,” he offered quietly and nodded to the doctor.  


“Miss Billow’s psyche is already under an unprecedented amount of stress. If I’m not careful, I may push her too hard and there will be nothing left of her mind to save. Although I have the power to break her free, my technique is unrefined. I need practice.” McCullum took another drag.  


“So practice,” he suggested.  


“She can only handle so much at a time. It’s delicate work, and slow going,” he clarified.  


“You don’t practice on anyone else?” McCullum narrowed his eyes.  


“I find that morally questionable, and I can’t very well explain myself to anyone to ask for consent to be a test subject.”  


There he went again, being a beacon of humanity in spite of his evil nature, and McCullum had already spoken before he was aware of the implications of his offer.  


“Why don’t you try me?” he proposed.  


Reid looked stunned as his eyebrows shot up and he struggled to think of how to reply.  


“Why would you do that?” he asked him bluntly. McCullum wondered himself.  


“A woman’s bein’ tormented by a vampire,” he shrugged and buried his hands in his coat pockets, “I’m ina position to help. It’s my job,” he told him defensively.  


“It may be a bit invasive,” Reid warned him but didn’t outright reject the offer. It was evident that McCullum couldn’t trust his own tongue tonight so he shrugged again instead. It seemed sufficient for Reid.  


“Alright then,” he agreed. “Now?” McCullum shook his head and pulled the cigarette from between his teeth.  


“Tomorrow. Be at the theater at nine. Don’t be late, leech.” He turned to walk away before Jonathan could argue and continued his patrol alone. 

  


“Steel your mind, Geoffrey. Try to resist the intrusion. Push me back,” Reid instructed him.  


Geoffrey sat opposite the doctor in his room of the theater, previously occupied by Doris Fletcher herself. It was spacious, with a lavish four poster, an elegant writing desk, and an impossibly soft upholstered loveseat with matching ottoman. The pair had pulled the ottoman and wooden desk chair to the center of the room so they could sit facing each other, Reid occupying the chair while McCullum perched on the edge of the ottoman. McCullum sat with his elbows on his knees and breathed deeply as he waited. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting exactly, but he could feel Reid’s will creeping at the corners of his consciousness, an inky black shadow curling at the corners of his mind. It was as if tendrils of smoke were coiling around his head and he concentrated harder on his own thoughts. He heard Reid’s voice then, could almost see him even through closed eyes as the sound echoed off the inside of his skull.  


“Stand, McCullum. Come to me.”  


McCullum lurched forward as if a yanked rope had been tied around his breastbone, only stopping himself at the last moment as he squeezed his eyes shut harder and forced his body to still. He took a deep breath.  


“Good,” Reid praised him aloud. “Again.”

And so they fought again, and again, and again, the battlefield being the rough terrain of McCullum’s inner mind, and though he could feel Reid pushing more and more each time, he could tell the Ekon was restraining himself.  


“You’re holdin’ back,” Geoffrey grunted through panting breaths, a thin sheen of sweat lining his brow. Reid didn’t deny the accusation.  


“This is to perfect my dexterity in the technique, not crush you with brute force.”  


“This ain’t my first time, Leech. What good’s practice if you’re just fuckin’ around?”  


“It’s as though you purposely try to irritate me,” Reid said and sat back in his chair to cross his arms over his chest. McCullum grinned at that, wide and unrestrained, and Jonathan smirked back at him.  


“Fine,” the doctor decided and sat up again. He looked at McCullum and the smile dropped from his face. The hunter heard the words in his head again, thunderously loud and impossible to block out, so intrusive and all consuming McCullum flinched.  


“Come,” the voice boomed.  


McCullum lurched up again, but this time he couldn’t catch himself before his arse left the ottoman, only managing to resist enough to stop his feet from staggering forward. Frantic in his compulsion to obey the voice overtaking his mind he continued to struggle forward, but he planted his feet just as desperately, only resulting in his boots staying put as the rest of him tried to push on and his knees slammed into the hardwood floor at the Ekon’s feet. McCullum was panting in earnest now and he took a moment before he peered up at Reid cautiously, uncertain what he’d find in his face.  


Reid looked down at him impassively, his face carefully neutral, and McCullum didn’t know what to make of it.  


“You’re still holdin’ out on me,” he puffed. Reid’s facade broke and he smiled down at him again, a sweet and fond expression that made McCullum laugh through his nose.  


“No one can say you aren’t determined,” Reid quipped.  


“Most people call it ‘stubborn,’” he replied. Reid hummed in agreement as McCullum stood up and collapsed heavily back into his seat. Reid let him breath for a moment so the only sound in the room was the distant clattering of the men downstairs and the deep and steady breaths of the hunter. “I’d like to try something else,” the vampire proposed. McCullum motioned for him to continue.  


“I’m listening.” Reid took his time answering as he stood up and wandered about the room stroking his beard, and though McCullum watched impatiently he allowed the man to collect his thoughts.  


“Miss Billow suffers because another vampire has infiltrated her brain,” he began.  


“Ay,” McCullum agreed, “thought we established that already.” Reid ignored him and pressed on.  


“He has inserted himself into her thoughts, so she’s compelled to think as he instructs. If I were to do the same, override his connection so to speak, I should be able to push him out.”  


“Great,” McCullum humored him.  


“That would leave her mind occupied by only her and myself, and once I relinquished my hold in theory she should be herself again.” McCullum wasn’t sure where he was going with this but let the doctor talk himself through it regardless, not one to interfere with the “scientific process” or whatever it was Reid had called it before.  


“Of course, there’s always the possibility that she could run into him again, or he could seek her out once he realized their link had been severed, but it would give her a fighting chance at the very least.”  


“Reid,” McCullum finally interrupted. Reid paused in his pacing and looked up at him, hand still tangled in his beard.  


“Yes?”  


“What’s this got to do with me?” McCullum cut straight to the chase.  


“Yes, right,” he agreed and walked back to his chair.  


“I propose-” he said taking his seat “-that I insert myself into your thoughts, rather than in your actions.” McCullum kept his composure without a twitch and spoke calmly and with deliberateness.  


“…An’ what does that entail, exac’ly?”  


“I’m going to try and manipulate your desires. Miss Billow believes that she craves the flesh of rats, I’d like to try and make you crave something as well.”  


“Don’t think I like the sound a that, Reid,” he admitted. “What happens if you pull it off and I’m stuck like ‘er?”  


“Impossible,” Reid assured him, “if I’m the one who implanted the thought, I’ll be able to take it away just as easily.”  


“In theory,” McCullum added.  


“Everything is in theory, my friend. Technically speaking, gravity is only a working theory, but it’s real enough I trust that every time I jump into the air I’ll always come back down.” McCullum chuckled.  


“You’ve got the head of a scientist and the prose of a poet, Dr. Reid. A deadly combination.” Reid still smiled and was about to press on when McCullum latched onto the least pertinent detail the doctor had said.  


“My friend?” he repeated with a raised brow, but Reid ignored him completely and got up to sit right back down next to McCullum on the oversized ottoman, forcing McCullum to shift over.  


“Are you willing to do this?” Reid asked him directly. McCullum forced himself to think critically, but he already knew his answer. He’d known Reid for a long time now, and if anyone had proved themselves worthy of an ounce of McCullum’s trust, he supposed it was him. Still, he had appearances to keep.  


“I dunno about this, Reid. What’d you have me desire? I ain’t about to go out and start chewin’ rat bones.”  


“Of course,” Reid agreed. “Something far less degrading I would imagine, but still something outside the realm of what you would ever in your right mind crave.”  


“Okay, like what?” Reid pursed his lip in thought but nothing sprang to mind.  


“I’m not sure. What do you hate?” He asked.  


“Leeches,” McCullum answered immediately. Jonathan heaved a weary sigh but still had that fond smile gracing his face.  


“Yes, well I suppose I should’ve seen that one coming. You don’t hate all leeches,” he reminded him. Geoffrey glared back at him, and they were sitting close enough that Jonathan could see the tension in his clenched jaw as he bit back his words.  


“We’ve already decided yer not like other leeches,” he admitted with reluctance. Reid’s smile widened and McCullum allowed himself to take in the little details. The immaculate cut of the man’s beard, the high cheekbones and thin nose, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled just so when his smile pushed at them. He swallowed hard when the dream niggled at his memory again, and he was grateful when Reid carried on the conversation.  


“Still, that has potential,” he shifted on the seat to face McCullum more fully and laid a hand absently on McCullum’s knee as he locked his eyes with the hunters’, suddenly serious, “I could make you desire blood as we do. I know the feeling well after all, and it’s a tangent of Miss Billow’s own affliction.” McCullum’s nose scrunched as if the air was rancid, and he hadn’t missed the placement of the doctors hand on his person.  


“Don’t like it. Pick somethin’ else,” he grunted. The vampire’s mouth pinched but he didn’t argue and drummed his fingers rhythmically on the other’s knee as trivially as if it were a tabletop while the other stroked his beard again, evidently an idle habit. McCullum ignored it and leaned his own chin into his hand, elbow resting on his free knee.  


“Perhaps… Perhaps I should be thinking in the other direction,” the doctor voiced his thoughts aloud. McCullum looked over at him but didn’t speak, and he noticed the man had stopped his pointless drumming fingers but had yet to remove his hand.  


“Instead of implanting thoughts and imposing my will to overwrite another, I should be trying to remove thoughts altogether.”  


“That does sound the simpler a the two,” McCullum agreed as Reid sank into silent thought again and his fingers resumed their drumming.  


“What if you make her forget and she remembers later?” McCullum asked and Reid wiped at his mouth and nodded.  


“That’s my concern as well. It would likely undo everything and she’d be right back where she started.”  


“Still worth a shot, eh?”  


“I agree,” Reid granted.  


“But I’m not letting you root around in my head deleting shit,” McCullum stated and Reid nodded again.  


“A new memory then. If I can just make you forget a snippet of time, or a single phrase, that would be ideal.”  


“An’ if you fuck up and scrub my whole head clean?” McCullum challenged. Reid met his stern gaze and returned it in equal measure.  


“That won’t happen. I won’t lose you.” His fingers ceased their drumming when Reid’s hand landed on McCullum’s shoulder instead, and since no suitable words presented themselves to the hunter he settled for waiting for the doctor to continue even as his pale eyes threatened to chill him to the core. When the doctor took too long McCullum heaved a weary sigh and shrugged the hand from his shoulder.  


“What’s the plan then?” he wanted to know, already missing the weight of the doctor’s touch.  


“Let’s make a new memory for you. Speak, talk of whatever you’d like, then I’ll go in and attempt to remove the memory of the conversation,” he explained.  


“Alright, simple enough. What did you want to talk about?”  


“Anything at all, if everything goes to plan, you won’t remember it anyway.” McCullum thought for a moment. An opportunity to ask questions he wouldn’t remember if he didn’t like the answers. What was he hesitant to know?  


“Be nice if we’d both forget, don’t like you bein’ able to remember questions when I forget even askin’ ‘em, never mind the answers,” he brooded. Reid couldn’t assuage his fears, but allowed him to sort his thoughts and eventually the man met his eyes.  


“Do leeches dream?” he asked wistfully. Reid hesitated before he followed up.  


“What do you mean?” he responded with his head cocked.  


“Not aspirations and such, I know you have goals, but when you sleep. Do you dream?” he clarified to Jonathan’s odd expression.  


“I do,” the Ekon simply confirmed.  


“What of?” McCullum pressed further. Reid looked thoughtful but gave him his best summary. “All sorts of things I suppose. I dream of childhood memories, and of sunshine on my human skin. I dream of my Mary quite often. I have nightmares of waking up in the grave again,” he told him bluntly. “Some of them make no sense at all.”  


Although satisfied, McCullum was surprised not only at the revelation that the undead could still dream, have nightmares even, but that the contents could be so… sad, or perhaps Reid was just a melancholic soul. He chuckled at the last bit.  


“Really? What’s the strangest you’ve ever had?” he asked with an intrigued smile and the look the doctor gave him, that same blank stare that felt almost accusatory didn’t wipe it from his face.  


“That’s a strangely personal question coming from you, McCullum,” he said instead of answering.  


“What happened to ‘my friend’?” he asked mischievously and the quirk of his lip earned him a smirk back.  


“Do you expect me to believe that you would tell me yours?” he provoked and watched McCullum’s grin slowly melt away.  


“No,” he conceded, “I guess not.”  


“Let’s continue then,” he directed. Sitting as close as they were it was easy for Reid to regard McCullum gravely as he held his gaze. “Think of what you will, something besides this conversation. It’s important that I be able to find the memory I’m looking for on my own.” McCullum grunted his understanding and closed his eyes to wait for the feeling of Reid’s presence in his mind once more. It was almost familiar now, he thought to himself as the weight of another’s presence in his skull pulled heavily at his thoughts. It felt cold, like a door had been left open in an empty room of an abandoned house, and it felt exposing. But he didn’t fight it, and tried his best to think of other things. Mind left to wander, he recalled memories of his brother and himself, playing in the stream near their family home. He recalled the day he had led his first squad of recruits after Carl Eldritch promoted him. He recalled the cool curve of a muscled shoulder and the weight of a head on his chest, beard scratching at his naked skin-  


-Suddenly the cold draft in his mind was gone like the door had been slammed shut and McCullum’s eyes snapped open to find that Reid’s were right in front of him, blue to blue and both pairs wide in surprise. McCullum had not been recalling memories purposefully, only letting his mind wander where it pleased, and it occurred to him with sinking horror what Reid had seen and why he’d pulled away. McCullum’s teeth were clenched so tightly he wouldn’t have been surprised had one cracked, but he didn’t speak, didn’t move, didn’t blink. His cheeks threatened to burn but he pushed that down too and let whatever would come next come, his hand had already been shown and so he wore his typical stern facade stoically. Reid’s mouth was slightly agape and his eyes still wide and round when he caught himself and blinked rapidly, closing his mouth and clearing his throat.  


“Apologies,” he mumbled, “I lost my focus.” To McCullum’s surprise, confusion, and slight horror, Reid placed a hand on either side of the man’s face, cradling his jaw gently and holding him steady as he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. McCullum blinked at the man but pulled himself together enough to close his eyes as well and return his efforts to the task at hand.  


He thought of specific thoughts after that, not trusting his own mind to stay within safe pastures, and before long he suddenly found himself thinking of their past discussion, recalling Reid’s ability to dream. He hadn’t meant to think about it, but it was suddenly at the forefront of his mind, and he was able to look back on it in great detail, only for it to flee from his mind as quickly as it had come. He reeled a bit, confused, unable to recollect what he’d just been thinking of, when the cold receded again much more slowly this time and he opened his eyes to meet pale blue once more, cool hands still cradling his face.  


“How do you feel?” Reid prompted him. McCullum blinked at him again.  


“I feel… fine,” he spoke a bit hesitantly and Reid looked incredibly unimpressed.  


“Anything else?” he urged. McCullum looked around the room and Reid allowed his hands to fall back to his sides when he turned his head.  


“I feel… frustrated. Like when you walk into a room and can’t remember why.” The surprised and satisfied look on Reid’s face told McCullum he hadn’t expected such an eloquent rebuttal.  


“That’s promising,” he told him, “What’s the last thing you remember?”  


“You riflin’ through my head,” he replied dryly and Reid looked like he wanted to shake him in exasperation.  


“Memories, McCullum, memories. What was the last thing you asked me? How did I answer?”  


McCullum dug deep and frowned, thinking hard enough to furrow his brow. He remembered Reid had managed to command him out of his seat, and that he’d wanted to impose a desire into his subconscious, but after that things got a bit hazy. He could vaguely call to mind his last suggestion; wipe a memory rather than insert one, and then it all went blank.  


“Ah,” he said putting it all together, “you said you wanted to erase my memory.”  


“Good, and after that?” Reid compelled him.  


“I asked what’d happen if you turned my brain to mush.”  


“Excellent. Anything else?” McCullum rubbed his forehead but shook his head no.  


“It’s too fuzzy after that. I don’t remember- no, you said… You said you wouldn’t lose me. And then it cuts to black.”  


“Perfect, that is the exact intended result-” Reid stood from the ottoman and paced the room in front of the hunter before he paused to continue “-Miss Billow’s mind may be harder to sort through than your own, but the premise should be the same. You may have saved this woman yet, Geoffrey.” McCullum huffed a laugh and ran a hand through his hair but he didn’t share Reid’s smile.  


“What’d I say then?” He asked.  


“Pardon? Oh, in the space of the time you’ve forgotten?”  


“Ya.” Reid chewed on the inside of his cheek and it pulled his mouth awkwardly.  


“You asked me if I could dream,” he told him and McCullum’s shoulders stiffened. He didn’t move and Reid didn’t continue, so the quiet that settled around them was thick and weighted.  


“What’d you see in my head, Reid,” McCullum bit the bullet and threw the topic out between them. Unfortunately Reid didn’t know what to do with it.  


“I saw what you saw,” he tried to leave it open ended but McCullum wasn’t having it. He needed to know in no uncertain terms how much Reid had witnessed.  


“Say it. Tell me, in your own words,” he demanded looking straight ahead, and though he could feel Reid’s gaze boring holes in the side of his head he refused to lift his eyes.  


“…I saw you as a boy, with another, playing in a stream,” he began, and when McCullum did not react he continued softly. “You, leading troops through Whitechapel,” another pregnant pause, “and me, in your bed.”  


McCullum closed his eyes and let the silence lay for a beat before he explained.  


“Don’t get the wrong idea, leech,” his voice defeated, “I don’t want you thinkin’ tha’s some fantasy runnin’ through my head. It was a dream I had, fresh in my mind’s all.” The excuse sounded tired in his own ears despite its truth.  


“Of course,” Reid accepted his words at face value but could think of nothing with which to follow them, and so the silence consumed the room again. Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore and it became clear Reid had no intentions, Geoffrey stood and turned to face him fully.  


“Is that all then?” he asked flatly.  


“Sorry?” Reid blinked at him.  


“If that’ll be all, I think we’re done here,” he told him and began pulling Reid’s wooden chair back to its place at the desk.  


“Geoffrey, if this is something that-”  


“Goodnight, Dr. Reid,” McCullum dismissed him without a backwards glance. He stayed there with his hands on the back of the chair and facing the desk, away from the leech’s piercing stare.  


“Yes, goodnight McCullum. Thank you again for all your help.” And with that he was gone, the only telling of his departure the sound of the door shutting quietly behind him.


	7. The Science of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCullum realizes eventually he'll have to bite the bullet and face the music, and Reid discovers he may have been dancing to the tune all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I rewrote a good portion of this chapter many times and cut out a good pointless part of it, which I feel a lot better about and I think strengthened it quite a bit overall. It still feels a bit choppy for my taste but I'm at least confident any editing at this point will be minor grammatical changes rather than plot points (Plot what is plot??) I hesitated on whether it was ready to post at all, but life is short, and Death is Pending.

So McCullum had had a dream about him. That was good. 

But McCullum had also been ashamed to recall it. That was not so good. 

And it had evidently been a dream that was… sexual in nature. That was… unexpected. 

From the very beginning McCullum had only been begrudgingly tolerant of Reid’s existence, and then not so tolerant, and then tolerant enough again that Jonathan would almost call them friends, or amicable allies at the very least. Jonathan had had no idea that the hunter considered him as anything more than a tool to further his organization’s ends, and yet here they were. Of course, there was the possibility that McCullum’s last words held more truth than Jonathan gave him credit for and that it truly had been the meaningless hallucinations of a brain in sleep, but McCullum’s defeated countenance gave Jonathan pause. No, he couldn’t write it all off when McCullum’s face had looked like that. He’d looked like a fallen king, one whose last knight had just burst into the throne room and told him invaders were at the gates and his kingdom was in flames - panic burning down into the cinders of acceptance.

If McCullum didn’t want to talk about it Jonathan didn’t feel he had any right to force him. He respected the man, and that meant respecting his privacy.

But the novelty of it gnawed at him and he couldn’t let it go. He didn’t want to. How exactly did McCullum see him? Last he’d checked the hunter barely saw him as a man, let alone a potential partner, how had he not seen any signs? Had there even been any? Did McCullum actually desire a relationship? What he’d seen in the man’s head had been much more domestic than sexual, but he’d never seen the hunter so much as look at anyone twice, man or woman, and he didn’t seem the type. 

Rational thinking only, Jonathan reminded himself. It was all conjecture anyway, nothing would come of it no matter how much Jonathan spun his wheels trying to wrap his head around the situation. McCullum may or may not have perfectly normal human urges and Jonathan just happened to fit a profile evidently. It was likely McCullum just had a preference for individuals that shared certain physical characteristics with Jonathan, and that would explain why a dream of the physical sort would manifest itself. Perhaps it had even been because of him that the idea had stuck in the man’s head, the doctor thought to himself as he recalled his own mother’s ramblings. McCullum had been so put off by all her odd comments alluding to the relationship they didn’t have that his subconscious mind had taken the idea and ran with it, end of story. As soon as he’d woken up he’d been horrified and shoved the shameful vision down, never to speak of again until Reid had dragged it right back up. McCullum had given less than no indication that he was interested in Reid and as far as he knew Reid hadn’t done or said anything to indicate his own affections either. Not that he was affected. 

The only reason this situation had arisen in the first place was due to the two of them interacting more and more as of late. They were constantly dancing around one another; their patrols often overlapped, the Guard continually required medical attention, Jonathan would ask his assistance in his research, all events that drew them together with increasing frequency. Jonathan appreciated McCullum’s company and valued his input, possibly more than any other human he’d encountered, and he respected him and his dedication. He had meant it when he’d told him he thought of him as a kindred spirit, that he was one of the most caring and selfless individuals he’d ever known, and that he’d spare him again and again in spite of their differences if the alternative was to extinguish the light that was Geoffrey McCullum forever. The world was a better place with him in it, and Reid adored him for that. He found himself wanting to know more about the mystery that was this man, wanting to observe him, interact with him, be with him. He wanted to-

Oh, his train of thought crashed abruptly.

Oh no.

Jonathan needed some time to come to terms with some things. Firstly, he considered Geoffrey McCullum to be his closest friend, and had for quite some time now. Secondly, while he had always found himself attracted to women in the past, Geoffrey McCullum sparked something in him that he had yet to find in anyone else, and he was electrified. Every interaction left him wanting for the next, and when they were apart he found his thoughts adrift, always circling back to him, and only him. No other held his attention. No one else’s praise could lift him so high, no other’s criticism could cut as deep, and no other eyes could hypnotize him the way his could. 

Which brought him to his third conclusion; he found Geoffrey McCullum undeniably attractive. He was solidly built, gritty and chiseled, the picture of masculinity, and though Jonathan could find the objective beauty in the male form his opinions on Geoffrey’s good looks were a far cry from impartial. This was not a new revelation in any way, as he’d always considered the hunter to have a handsome face, but he was certainly thinking about that particular face now in a new light. How thick and full his lashes were, the solid line of his nose, and the ever present furrow of his brow, he could picture all of it in his mind’s eye in stunning detail, and if he let his mind run far enough he could imagine still those broad shoulders, strong and firm from years of training, his toned chest, his scarred abdominals…

A shiver slipped down Jonathan’s spine as he traversed the worn cobblestones of the West End Park that had nothing to do with the biting chill in the air. His recollection of McCullum’s dream was haunting him as much as the hunter to the point that even now as he silently meandered over path and pavement he couldn’t stop thinking about the soft placid smile he’d seen on the other man’s face. The picture of them had been so serene it was otherworldly, McCullum’s visage had been so peaceful, as if he had truly been contented, and Jonathan’s own face had mirrored his satisfaction. It filled Jonathan with longing to see if that kind of peace was even attainable, but he felt if he had the chance to find it anywhere, he would find it with him. 

He’d spent so long observing the man he hadn’t taken the time to ask himself why or to what end, never pushing just far enough to see the other side of the mountain, but he realized now that his yearning to be close to the man did not begin or end solely with observation. He wanted to test. He wanted to know if there was truly something in his heart for McCullum or if he was more enamored with the idea of the fantasy than the man himself.

Perhaps that was the key to all of this. What he needed was to test if his heart had grown bigger than his head. If he were able to show and share affection with the object of his alleged desires, it would substantiate his theory that he may have romantic inclinations towards McCullum, but if those affections gave him more joy to think of rather than act upon it would tell him that his feelings really were just a passing fancy. 

Yet another problem arose however when he recalled McCullum’s insistent dismissal of him. It was obvious the man was in no mood to speak to him in any capacity, and he feared trying to broach this of all subjects would leave him walking out of Priwen Headquarters limping. It had been a little over a week since they’d last parted that night in the hunter’s private room, but Reid knew better than to assume they were past this. It left him at a loss of what to do. 

Only time, he wagered, would tell. 

Time for McCullum was spent drowning in routines and whiskey, and it made it easier to pretend nothing in his life had changed. He hated leeches, he killed leeches, and he made the streets safer because of those two unwavering facts. He’d gotten in too deep with Reid, allowed the nightcrawler to work himself under his well-worn armor, and he was paying the price for it now in his inability to focus, his hair-trigger temper, and his profound and infuriating sense of loss. 

He hadn’t lost anything dammit, except maybe his own self respect, but he still felt as though he’d let go of something important that he may never be able to get back. It was like he’d dropped something precious into an abyss of open ocean and now all he could do was watch it sink further and further away from him, already out of his reach. It was maddening, and saddening, and all McCullum wanted to do was drown his sorrows and shame and burn a few leech corpses until their bones charred. It was bad enough that he had no reason to feel this way, nothing had been his to lose in the first place, neither friendship nor anything else, but the worst of it may have been that the one person who might’ve been able to lift his foul mood wasn’t a person at all, and was the one creature he held contempt for the most. 

Or, at the very least, he should have felt contempt. It was just another nail in his own coffin that in spite of everything, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the doctor. It almost made him laugh; the fact that it was because the bastard made such a poor leech that he made such a good man. The irony wasn’t lost on McCullum. 

It had been over two weeks now since their little standoff at the theater and McCullum hadn’t caught even a whiff of the doctor. He wasn’t purposely avoiding the leech, but he was grateful nonetheless for the time apart to get his head back on straight. 

It didn’t seem to be helping as much as he’d hoped. 

Interestingly enough, it wasn’t Reid directly that ran into McCullum, but rather the remnants of him in the shape of a lovely lass in a freshly pressed blouse and tidy brunette hair, pulled back from her sweet clean face in a neat braid. McCullum had to look twice as he almost passed by her. 

“Miss Billow?” He had to confirm.

“Ah, Mr… McCullum was it? How do you do?” Miss Billow replied politely. 

“Fine, thanks. Yer lookin’… well,” he complimented. 

“I _feel_ well,” she nearly whispered, voice tight with emotion, “I feel _well_ , Mr. McCullum!” She beamed at him with blinding glee. She twirled in a lazy circle, letting her long skirt flow and twist in the moonlight just because she could and she looked overjoyed at the motion. “I never thought I’d feel well ever again!”

McCullum regarded her cooly as a strange warmth pooled in his gut. “Glad to hear it ma’am. It’s good to see ya lookin’ like yerself again.”

“Truly. I don’t know what Dr. Reid did, but it’s like I never felt sick in the first place.” Her eyes sparkled like sunlight on waves when she spoke of her miraculous recovery. 

“Mm. Just like that, eh?” McCullum questioned. 

“Just like that! I’ve been told to come in for regular checkups, but my God, I still can’t truly believe I’m free!” she laughed unhindered.

“A new lease on life. Congratulations, Miss Billow.”

“Thank you, Mr. McCullum. A pleasant evening to you!” He nodded his goodbye and stepped aside to let her pass, and it was only after she had made it a good few yards that McCullum called back to her. 

“Miss Billow,” he exclaimed impassively, and she paused in her stride to turn to him. “Give Dr. Reid my regards.” 

Carina smiled at him, though her head was tilted in question, but she nodded her assent and continued on her way. 

McCullum needed a vacation. He was getting to old for this, he thought to himself as he signed another order shipment and handed it off to the waiting Priwen scribe standing beside his desk. Supplies were low, which meant it was time to inventory their stock and decide what needed immediate replenishing and what could wait another six months. It was a taxing process, but one that needed his attention. A miscalculation could see an entire brigade without any blankets for the winter, a platoon without munitions, or their chaplains without legible scriptures. They needed to be thorough and now was not the time for distractions. 

It was for this reason he was especially irritated when another soft knock came from the door. He wanted to sigh and slump in his chair but grunted out a halfhearted “come in”. He was halfway through another order form when the poor rookie entered his office shaking like a leaf with his arms held firm against his sides, trying to look the part of a proud soldier rather than a skittish barn cat. McCullum gave him a doubtful look and a single raised eyebrow, but would admit he was curious to know what could’ve possibly made the scrawny lad approach. He gave the impression he was ready to bolt from terror and McCullum couldn’t decide if he was disheartened that the new recruits were this brittle or just a bit proud that the kid was still standing his ground anyway despite looking like he was about to shite himself. He looked like he thought McCullum would throw him out the window at any moment. Maybe he would. 

“Ay?” McCullum prompted him. 

“Sir, letter delivery for you sir,” the boy shouted far too loudly. McCullum shut his eyes and took a slow breath so he wouldn’t snarl at the poor lad. 

“Well put it in the fuckin’ pile,” he calmly gritted out. 

“Yes sir, but, it’s- this one was hand delivered sir, with instructions it be handed to you personally,” the boy told him at a much more reasonable volume. McCullum set his pen down to turn his full seething glare on the rookie who shrank into himself impossibly more. 

“Who was it? F’it was Anderson-” he picked his pen back up and resumed his paperwork “-you can tear it up now an’ tell him whatever it is can wait ’til our meetin’ next week.”

“Was the leech doctor sir.”

The scratching of pen on rough paper silenced immediately and the room was quiet while the poor tortured boy waited for direction. McCullum’s stare was a thousand miles away as he thought his options through but eventually gave a short, stiff nod without sparing the kid a glance. 

“Give it here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had someone tell me that they couldn't even read this fic because it was formatted poorly, so I've added additional breaks between paragraphs. Let me know if y'all think it makes a difference and I'll either go back and include them in the previous chapters as well, or forgo it all together.  
> Thanks so much for reading <3


	8. With or Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid didn't expect McCullum to react well, but he'd hoped it would've gone better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter gave me a lot of grief since there were so many directions in which I could've taken it, but I think this is the best segue to allow me to set up for the rest of the story later on, if that makes sense. I feel this is the most... realistic reaction. Even though nothing about any of this is the slightest bit plausible lol. 
> 
> Also, my sincerest apologies, I meant to post this yesterday but got way too high for a Tuesday afternoon and forgot how to read.

“I wasn’t certain you’d come,” Reid admitted. With a delayed shrug of a shoulder McCullum took another drag off his cigarette before answering. This was the time and place Reid’s note had specified, and when he’d arrived the doctor had already been waiting. 

“Still might get up an’ leave,” he grumbled. “Ya could’ve put a bit more detail in yer letter.”

“I assumed you’d either respond or you wouldn’t. The contents didn’t seem terribly important at the time.”

The two sat on a Whitechapel bench just outside the cemetery gates, Jonathan with his hands folded in his lap and an ankle resting on his knee while McCullum lounged back, legs spread and arm thrown over the backrest as he smoked. 

“Thought it might’ve been an emergency, imminent leech attack planned or somethin’. You don’ usually send letters.” He blew another stream of white smoke into the frigid night air and watched it wisp and thin until it grew too diluted to track. “Ya nearly gave that poor kid a heart attack.”

Jonathan was watching the alleyway across the street, his keen inhuman eyes picking out shapes in the darkness McCullum couldn’t see, but he could still hear the scuttling of mice. The corner of the doctor’s mouth turned up but McCullum’s eyes were pointedly still on the sky, starless and hazy this deep into the city. 

“He was certainly startled, but put on a very brave face,” Reid explained which brought a grin to McCullum’s own and he chuckled to himself. 

But the easy grin slipped from his face just a bit too quickly and his snickers died out on the open air and soon enough they were sitting in the quiet again. It was odd, the feeling hanging in the space between them. They were different now, but that easy camaraderie still lie just below this newly developed tension. Or, conversely, maybe the comfortable fellowship they’d spent so long inadvertently establishing was the only thing holding back the terrifying lovecraftian _something_ that loomed beneath and threatened to breach the surface and drown them both. It felt cold, and McCullum bristled. 

“Why’m I here, Reid?” he asked as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. Both men kept their eyes ahead and though McCullum was sure he’d been heard Reid took his time in answering. He’d almost given up expecting one of him when he noticed the rhythmic drumming of the man’s fingers on the side of his polished shoe, a telltale sign he was sorting his thoughts. 

“I believe,” he began slowly but when the right words didn’t fall quickly enough into place he gave up all together with a weary sigh. He uncrossed his legs and stroked his beard as he tried again. 

“I owe you my thanks for your help with Miss Billow,” he finally got out and McCullum scowled, already irritated. 

“That’s not why y’called me out here,” he growled at him. He hated the way the leech was beating around the bush, dancing around him like he was walking on eggshells instead of getting to the point like he usually would, it was another mark that Reid was regarding him differently since their last meeting. Reid took another deep breath that came across just as annoyed, as if he had any reason to be indignant McCullum thought. He was the one who should feel put out. 

“All the same,” Reid argued. “Thank you.” McCullum grunted and left it at that. When Reid failed to seize the opportunity to continue McCullum prompted him again before the silence could seize them first. 

“Why am I here?” He asked a second time as he turned his head. There was no bite to the question but if the leech wasn’t going to spit it out he might as well take his leave.

“I didn’t want to accost you in your own territory,” Reid supplied with his eyes still lost in the alley across the way and McCullum could feel his patience stretch thinner. 

“I meant what’s so damned important you needed to ‘accost me’ at all?” Another heavy sigh. 

“Geoffrey, I’ve come to the conclusion… that I may have understated the nature of our- or rather, of my, my thoughts regarding… your significance. To me, that is,” he ground out ineloquently. McCullum was at a loss as to his point however since it was hard enough to parse out the doctor’s usual pretentious prose, the poor militant hadn’t a clue what the flustered surgeon was trying to convey. 

“What’re you goin’ on about, Reid?”

“Please, don’t get upset, and hear me out,” the doctor said in a rush, “I don’t wish for my- I don’t want to tarnish the connection that I feel we’ve established. But I respect you a great deal and feel you have the right to know my feelings on the matter.” McCullum was entirely out of his element as he sat up straighter to better take in his companion. He looked pained, like every word was an effort and went against his better judgement, but still he persevered even if he looked away again. “I’ve come to terms with the fact that I may harbor a certain… certain feelings for you,” he finished lamely. 

And if either of them had considered any of the previous silences that had fallen between them oppressive, this one was absolutely, inordinately, devastatingly suffocating. McCullum’s blood ran cold and his lungs felt weak and heavy, unable to breathe deeply enough to support the massive amount of brain power he would need to sort through this mess in which he’d found himself. What had happened? How could he have allowed things to fly so off the rails? How was this fair? It was then that the chill in his veins spiked suddenly into a white hot boiling fever that fueled a rage the likes of which he’d never felt before.

“What the fuck,” he gritted out coldly under his breath. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

“Geoffrey please-” Reid looked up at him through his eyelashes from where he had his chin tucked low to his chest in resignation, but Geoffrey stood and cut him off. 

“No, what the fuck, Reid?” he said louder, not quite yelling. “What- Where do you think we go from here? What do you think happens now? Fuckin’ leech, you’re not s’posed to have feelings at all!” He stood over Reid who looked back at him with those sad pale eyes but Reid made no move to deter him from his rant. McCullum searched those eyes for a hint of deceit but was presented with nothing but open blue. 

“Yer attracted to me.” McCullum confirmed and Reid nodded. It had been a statement rather than a question. “How long?”

Jonathan dropped his gaze to the ground, thinking, but looked back to the man looming over him when he remembered.

“I think it was when you gave me the blood of King Arthur. I was fascinated with you before, that night at the Pembroke, but when you handed over your flask, in this very graveyard,” he recalled with a backwards glance over his shoulder to the cemetery gates, “I believe it was the beginning of the end for me.”

McCullum cursed under his breath and crushed out his cigarette under the heel of his boot. He grit his teeth but the fire in his chest didn’t settle even when he clenched his fists so tight his nails dug painfully into the meat of his palms, so he spun on the spot and walked away. 

“McCullum-” Reid called out to him standing suddenly “-wait, please.” McCullum spun again but did not backtrack his steps.

“Stay away from me, Reid,” he warned jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction, “This, I, I dunno what this is, but it can’t happen. Priwen does not associate with leeches.”

“Just listen to me, Geoffrey, let me explain-” 

“-If I see you again, Bloodsucker, I’ll kill you,” McCullum cut him off definitively with no room for misinterpretation. No misunderstandings. “Like I should’ve the first time we met.” 

McCullum had turned too soon to see Reid flinch and his expression crumple, but he let the hunter go.

The absolute fucking nerve the leech had telling him something like that, McCullum fumed as he stormed through the streets of London and ignored the curious glances the residents cast his way. He had no direction in mind other than away, so he headed South and didn’t stop until he hit the docks. Who the hell did he think he was dropping a bomb like that on him? Was their tentative alliance not delicate enough without throwing feelings into the mix?

The hunter felt sick to his stomach the more he thought it over and an uneasy guilt pricked his gut. He had started this hadn’t he? The wheels had been set in motion and their destination already decided the moment he’d fallen asleep with the leech on his mind and woken up still draped in thoughts of him. It was inevitable, they were natural enemies after all and the fact that they’d maintained their unspoken truce for as long as they had was nothing short of a miracle in and of itself. Their time had just run out. 

Mountains of paperwork awaited his return to base, but if he had to so much as look at another inventory form right now he feared he’d set his whole office aflame. A good leader needed to know when to knuckle down and push through and when to back off and take a walk, and though McCullum rarely chose the latter, this was an occasion when the choice was hardly his to make. His legs carried him aimlessly and eventually his fury boiled over until the rage had reduced itself to a smoldering resentment. He resented himself for allowing this to happen, he resented Reid for pushing this all out into the open where they had no choice but to acknowledge that it was real, and he resented himself again for caring enough to feel resentment at all, a self-deprecating downward spiral that had caught him in its current. 

As the night blurred on around him and he lost himself in his own thoughts, the sun began to creep up along behind him on the far away horizon, the only telltale sign that time had passed other than the ache in his tired legs. When he stopped along the edge of the dock overlooking the Thames he gazed out at the rising sun and allowed the last of the raging fire inside of him to burn out into the ash of exhaustion, and the deep sigh that escaped him helped settle his bones. Beneath the fatigue, he understood that deep down there was a sadness lurking and he accepted with a great reluctance that he was mourning. He mourned the loss of companionship and he ached over the happy moments he would never be able to see the same way again, but perhaps most of all he grieved for the memories they would never have the chance to make.

God, he was pissed at himself, he thought as the fire tried to catch again, but he was too worn out to fuel it. Why did he _care?_ Why was it eating at him like this? It shouldn’t matter a bit what he thought of a leech, and it definitely shouldn’t matter what a leech thought of him. He had no answers for it, and as the sun made its final push to slip past the grasp of the water’s edge he made an uncharacteristic decision. 

He gave up and went home.

Jonathan had always prided himself on his ability to maintain rationality in the face of stressful situations, it was one of the many qualities that had enabled him to bloom as a brilliant surgeon, and so in the face of this harrowing ordeal he steadied himself by throwing everything into his work. 

Some of his coworkers took notice but were uncertain whether the sudden change was for the better. Dr. Reid was more active in surgery, sought out his colleagues for second opinions, and was altogether an even more prominent figure in the hospital than usual, but his face was hollow. Most thought nothing of it, a hardworking doctor working nightshifts on the tail end of a pandemic was bound to look gaunt, but a few did wonder if something was bothering the man. Perhaps the person most curious about Dr. Reid and all that he did was also the one person who feared no man. 

“Speak, mortal, and release to me your inner turmoil,” Thelma commanded with hands on thin hips. Her hair was crazed and her hospital gown tattered around the edges, but still she ordered the doctor as if she was used to commanding legions. 

“Good evening, Miss Howcroft,” Reid greeted her as if she hadn’t spoken. “How are you tonight?”

“You have anguish inside of you, Doctor. I can sense it in your blood.” Dr. Reid allowed his eyes to droop shut a moment. 

“I’m a bit tired,” he conceded, “as we all are.”

“You have the face of a man despondent, your blood would taste of swill.”

“Am I to assume I should take offense at that?”

“Your blood used to sing to me, vibrant and rich, but now I suspect it’s rancid in your veins.” Dr. Reid frowned curiously, it was unusual behavior, even for Miss Howcroft, to consider blood anything other than akin to the most delectable of wines.

“Are you feeling alright, Miss Howcroft? Do you require medical attention?”

“It’s you who needs help, Doctor,” she said as she pointed a thin, sharply nailed finger at his chest. “I will hear of your petty troubles. As an immortal, I have all the time in the world to spend as I choose.” Dr. Reid gave her a tired but all the same amused smile. 

“And you would spend yours listening to the trivialities of a lowly human?” he humored her. 

“Eternity is a long time, Dr. Reid.”

The doctor chuckled a small laugh to himself more than anyone and agreed, “indeed it is. But my problems are of no consequence, I’m perfectly fine.”

Thelma jutted her chin up and looked down her nose at the doctor with a feigned air of importance as she huffed. “Fine,” she granted, “I’ll leave you and your tainted blood to your stewing,” and with that brushed past him to continue down the hall and left the doctor wondering what on earth had gotten into her. 

By all accounts McCullum wasn’t fairing much better, but if he wanted to stay out later or drink one more round or put just two extra bullets between an unsuspecting leech's eyes then that was nobody’s business but his own.

It wasn’t that he was lacking in self control, his forbearance was as strong as the whiskey that burned his throat, it was only that he couldn’t find a reason not to anymore. He could leave the Turquoise Turtle where he sat at the bar swirling his drink around his glass and go to bed, but he wouldn’t sleep anyway. He’d just lie there awake until the evening came again or the pull of darkness finally became too strong. Those were the nights he would’ve prayed for had he been a proper religious man. So instead of torturing his overworked brain, he tortured his body with all the drink an Irish man of his stock could handle, which is to say a lot. 

He motioned to Tom for another when two men approached the bar and leaned against the countertop just to McCullum’s right and he surveyed the newcomers out of a soldier’s habit. The shorter of the two had short cropped brown hair and his anxious shifting put McCullum on edge, but the taller blond man seemed more at ease. McCullum stopped the glass Tom slid him from sailing by and onto the floor and took a swig with practiced ease. He met eyes with the blond over the shorter man’s head and recognized the familiar face.

“Mr. Blight,” he tilted his glass to Newton and nodded at Oswald when the brunet turned to look. “Mr. Thatcher.”

“Evening, Mr. McCullum, nice night innit?” Newton greeted politely. 

“Ay,” he agreed. He could only recall meeting the pair a handful of times and all of them had been on medical excursions with Reid, the memory of which flared a pang of irritation in the back of his throat that he washed down with another mouthful. 

“Goin’ a bit hard tonight then?” Oswald commented on his quickly disappearing liquor. 

“Just another Thursday,” McCullum replied gruffly. 

The two men ordered their ales and let McCullum be, but rubbing elbows in a half empty pub meant one was bound to overhear, and when the pair quietly resumed their own conversation McCullum wouldn’t’ve been able to stop himself from hearing if he’d wanted to, and in that moment when all he’d come to do was drink alone, he definitely wanted to. 

“I still think we should head North,” Oswald said. “Get away for a tad. Big open skies up in Rothbury, it would be… nice.” 

Newton’s smile was smooshed to the side while his cheek rested in his hand as he leaned against the counter. “And how would you know what the skies of Rothbury look like?” Oswald only dropped the side of his head into his hand in an imitation of the other man and smiled back. 

“C’mon,” he insisted instead, “think of it. Just you and me. We could build a little cabin on the river… be cozy…” Newton swatted at his arm just a bit too firmly to be this side of playful. 

“Oswald…” he chided in a hushed tone and flicked his eyes over the other man’s shoulder to surreptitiously indicate McCullum, who was in turn ignoring them forcefully. Oblivious to the furtive nature of his friend’s glances, the shorter man followed the look behind him only to immediately meet McCullum’s eye and catch them both like deer in headlights. 

McCullum looked away with a huff and set his glass down. “Don’ gimme that look, Thatcher. I couldn’ care less who yer shaggin’ in yer cozy little cottage.” He almost felt a twang of guilt when he noticed Newton recoil slightly out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked over the man only seemed a bit embarrassed with his downcast gaze and his cheeks the faintest bit ruddy.

“Well, there’s people about that aren’t quite so understandin’s you, McCullum. People have to watch who they say thin’s round,” Newton drawled under his breath. 

“Fair enough,” he gruffed and they returned to their respective drinks.

The night wore on slowly enough that even Tom floated about the pub, the bar not needing much attention, and eventually Oswald excused himself to the restroom and left the two men alone. McCullum could see in his periphery the dopey smile that Newton wore as he watched his lover go, and it grated on the last of his nerves. It was such a simple thing, an innocent smile born from contentment, but McCullum was too far gone for the night to think rationally about much of anything. 

“Wipe that fuckin’ grin off your face, Blight, people’ll think yer a madman” he jibed. The innocence of Newton’s smile curled into a laugh as he bit his lip down gently.

“Oswald tells me I should let them think what they like, so long’s I’m happy,” he responded.

“Mm. Good man,” the hunter mumbled, “brave.”

“He is. The best man I’ve ever known.” They lapsed into silence again but there was a question on McCullum’s tongue that lingered in the space between them that he didn’t want to voice, but felt he needed the answer. He took his time to work the phrasing over in his head, careful to withhold all he could. 

“Blight,” he said while he kept his sights on the shelves behind the bar and his shoulders hunched over the glass he had cupped with both hands. “How’d you know your feelings for Thatcher weren’t just friendly?” Newton didn’t answer and when McCullum inclined his head he saw the man’s eyebrows had shot to his hairline. McCullum wanted to scream, but instead he followed up with “when did you… make the jump?” The words felt heavy in his mouth and he wasn’t sure if he’d spoken them in the right order, but Newton gave a sweeping glance around the pub before he lowered his voice and his gaze to his beer. 

“I… I can’t rightly say, but I think there was a moment… when I realized… that I couldn’t imagine my life without him anymore. He’d changed me, and I-” the blond licked his lips as he sorted himself and took a long drink. “Nothing made sense when I wasn’t with him,” he carried on when his glass hit the bar top. “Thinking about having to go on without him by my side was torture, I don’t think I even could if I tried.”

The gears in McCullum’s head cranked slowly but he thought he understood. “Yer that close, eh?” 

Newton nodded and continued. “When I realized he liked me too, I was so happy I wanted to cry. I didn’t think there’d ever be anything more for us, but I can say openly now that I love him. I’m happy.” McCullum swallowed tightly but still hummed his approval in a gesture he hoped was encouraging. 

“Good for ya, mate. Best hold on to him.”

The blond’s shy smile returned as he told him, “I will. Why do you ask, Mr. McCullum? Something on your mind?” but the hunter had already pushed himself back from the counter and swallowed down the rest of his whiskey. 

“Not a damn thing,” he lied and clapped the young man on the shoulder as he walked right on by and out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mi dispiace.


	9. A Rock and a Hard Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rogue Ekon is leaving a trail of bloodless corpses in its wake, so it's up to our two favorite vampire slayers to put an end to it through teamwork, communication, and mutual trust. Lol JK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE CHAPTER BROS LET'S FUCKING GO

McCullum had lied again it seemed. It wasn’t a habit of his and he avoided it when he could, but he had so wanted to believe his own words that it’d been natural to spit them out of anger. But the next time he saw Dr. Reid, he hadn’t killed him. 

He chalked it up to the distance between them at the time, reasoning how impractical it would’ve been to charge up three flights of stairs just to reach the roof of an abandoned building where he’d seen the vampire only for him to be gone by the time he got there. So he’d watched him from below instead, gazing up at the sleek profile cutting into the moon’s outline, his silhouette light-dusted and glowing in the moonrays.

It was McCullum’s initial hesitation that pinned him in place. If given a second chance, he would’ve raised his bow immediately to make good on his threats. But he hadn’t. He wanted so badly to shoot him down, drive his steel through his heart as he would any other, he _wanted_ to want it, but although the fires of rage still flickered in his heart with the consistency of an endless pilot light, he couldn’t force himself to hate the leech enough to raise his hand.

 _He knows I’m here,_ McCullum thought, _he knows I’m watching him._

Though he couldn’t see the vampire’s face hidden in his own shadow, he noticed the slight rippling of his contour when he turned towards him, and McCullum didn’t bother to repress the shiver that trilled up his spine when he felt those eyes hit him. He wondered what kind of picture he painted. Reid could’ve recognized him from fifty yards in the most remote and lightless cave under the sea with those demon eyes of his, but with the full moon bright upon McCullum’s open face he wouldn’t’ve needed them, and the hunter felt a thrilling chill at the feeling of exposure. He hadn’t seen Reid in months, but his tormented thoughts hadn’t been his own in all that time as the doctor’s visage plagued him like a bad song he couldn’t unhear. 

So they stood in that moonlit street, so close together but still leagues apart, for what seemed like an eternity. It was only when McCullum’s ears pricked at the sound of a trashcan lid crashing to the ground that he broke and whirled to level his crossbow at the more imminent threat, growling low when only a rat scurried from the alley and out of sight. Before he’d even looked he knew Reid would be nowhere to be found, but was still disappointed when he turned back to the skyline only to find unclouded moon. 

“The bottle only gets heavier, sir,” the captain warned respectfully and stood his ground when McCullum shot a glare his way. 

“Don’t tell an Irishman how to drink, Maverick,” McCullum warned in return as he knocked back the last of his scotch. The soldier only dropped the report McCullum had requested on his desk and excused himself from the room, shutting the door behind him. 

The Priwen leader read the report through quickly, fearing the worst, and only grew more morose as he neared the end and chucked it back down on the desk with a curse. More recent killings, but not the handiwork of any skal. The wounds were too clean and the bodies always abandoned in secluded locations, suggesting they’d either been lured or otherwise went willingly. An Ekon then, and a gluttonous one at that. He’d upped the rounds in the East End where the body locations had been centralized, but this was a clever beasty, not one he imagined his boys would just run into on the street. No, this one needed proper hunting, and McCullum owed it to this city to sic the best of his best on the task. 

And who was better than him?

It’d taken him nearly three weeks to find himself in an abandoned mausoleum in the Whitechapel Cemetery, but in that time two other bodies had been recovered and buried with no loved ones having been located. McCullum grieved them, but the only thing he could do for them now was serve their executioner his own fate, so he’d toiled and worked the streets scrounging for any details that could lead him closer to their justice. 

He was following another lead he’d gotten from a local who claimed to have seen a strange man coming and going from the cemetery at all hours of the night, silent as the grave and just as pale. The rest of his tips had run as dry as the victims’ corpses, and although this one held promise, McCullum kept a tight lid on his expectations as he inspected the empty crypt for any signs of leech activity. With a constant hand hovering over the pistol on his hip he swept the area and came up empty, finding nothing to suggest a vampire had ever set foot inside. Nothing but cobwebs and long dead flowers. 

Only when he climbed the stairs back out into the open did he heard a feral snarl, too far away to be aimed at him, but his pistol was drawn and ready all the same as he faced the sound. The growls continued and he could hear crashing just over the hill beyond the farthest row of graves, and suddenly he was running, careening round a corner and down more stairs to find himself outside another vault, made of simple stone and unassuming in its design but impressive in its size. The heavy stone door had been broken down into sizable jagged blocks that lay scattered inside the entry way, presumably from an impressively forced entry. With his weapon ready and his back pressed flush to the outer wall, McCullum peered around the doorframe and could just make out the two men inside before their shapes vanished into thin air. McCullum blinked in the darkness and the men materialized again on the other side of the room before blinking out and seeping into the shadows again just as quickly, their snarls echoing off the solid stone.

 _Ah,_ he thought, _leech fight._ He was in the right place after all. He took the time to weigh his options, deciding it may not hurt to let the two of them sort their quarrel out themselves before he inserted himself into the fray. He rounded the corner as silent as a phantom to position himself behind one of the twin stone pillars framing the entryway just inside the crumbled door, a better vantage point to watch the scuffle. 

The taller of the two appeared to have the upper hand and was armed with a shining blade, his cuts smooth and calculated used in elegant tandem with his mastery of the surrounding shadows, while the other lashed out savagely with ragged claws, only hurling needle sharp spears of blood when it could manage. McCullum could feel the hard stone sinking in his gut as recognition dawned on him, and as the familiar grace of the taller Ekon twirled him into the moonlight cast in from the high barred windows McCullum could make out the look of cold concentration on Reid’s pale face. 

The hunter swallowed a curse and shifted in his squat behind the column. Time to reassess. He was sure Reid could handle himself against a lone leech, and so the hunter’s assistance wasn’t needed here, but he didn’t rise from his crouch. He needed to leave before the fight was over if he wanted to save himself another awkward standoff where he would be forced to act on either his ingrained principles or his much-more-lenient better judgement, but still he remained. 

Reid was wearing his opponent down slowly but surely, the other Ekon’s once-white button up was streaked through with red and was hanging off it in ribbons, evidence of the damage done even if the skin below had had already healed, but the bloodsucker was feral as a wild wolf and presumably well fed. Reid’s sword sank through the meat of its shoulder with a spray of blood, but the leech pushed through and sank its claws through the doctors coat and into his ribs, and though the doctor gasped and pushed back to jump away the other vampire had sunk its talons in deep and refused to let go. 

McCullum stood suddenly, his legs acting of their own accord and ready to leap. The hunter knew well how little time it took to turn the tide of a battle, just one well aimed strike could cripple your opponent now matter how many blows they’d landed previously, and he wasn’t about to let the doctor go down like this. Yet despite his readiness, the leech had already gripped Reid’s shoulder, its other hand still sunk into the doctor’s side, and ripped him off his feet and hurled him through the air in an impressively brutal feat of strength. Reid sailed from one side of the room to the other and smashed squarely into the pillar opposite McCullum back-first, and the wind knocked from his lungs would’ve been audible had the pillar behind him not trembled with a sickening creak. The massive stack of stone groaned as the force of the impact proved too much for it and the joint where it met the ceiling fractured with a sudden reverberating crack. There was a split second of silence when nobody moved, but all eyes were glued to the pillar until they all heard the definitive snap of failed concrete as the stone splintered at the base, and suddenly the whole structure tumbled to the side. McCullum felt the whole spectacle move in slow motion as he narrowly avoided being crushed by the thing as he dove and rolled before the heavy stone crashed to the floor and scattered broken rocks across the room and a plume of thick dust coated the air.

“McCullum?” Ried called out to him, confused and concerned, and the hunter cursed again.

“‘M fine, Reid,” he yelled back through dust-choked coughs, “finish it!” The fallen pillar had come to rest in front of the doorway and blocked most of the light from the crypt, the only remaining illumination stemming from the small windows on the other side of the room, and McCullum’s eyes needed a moment to adjust. He saw the dark shape of the other leech lunge again and heard Reid’s grunts as the struggle resumed, but by the time he’d gotten to his feet and leveled his gun again the tomb was quiet. 

“Reid,” he called into the darkness demandingly. The crypt remained silent, but as the dust settled he could make out the shapes of a man on the floor and another standing up from its crouch over the body. McCullum could feel the shadow’s eyes on him, and though he wanted to believe they felt familiar, he wasn’t about to bet on it. 

“Reid,” he stated more firmly. He had his pistol leveled and was in no mood for games, so when the shadow stalked towards him again he fired a single round straight for center mass. The shadow hissed and staggered as the bullet tore through its shoulder and the creature dropped to a knee. 

“What the fuck, Geoffrey!?” the doctor hissed. 

“Fuckin’ answer when I’m talkin’ to ya,” McCullum growled apathetically. “Yer lucky I didn’t put one between yer eyes.” Reid growled at him in an uncharacteristic display of irritation and stood while pressing a hand to his still bleeding shoulder. “What’re you doin’ here, leech?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Reid rubbed his shoulder soothingly. 

“I asked you first.”

“I was following the trail of bodies that rogue was leaving in his wake.” McCullum’s eyes had adjusted somewhat and he could see Reid glance over his shoulder to the leech’s body crumpled on the floor. “I take it you were doing the same?” McCullum hummed and nodded his confirmation. “Well, that would’ve been nice to know from the beginning, I’ve spent a week running in circles with this one. I would’ve appreciated whatever knowledge it was that brought you here on your own.”

McCullum grimaced but let it go. He hated to think the leech was right, as he often was, and to imagine he could’ve caught this bastard a week ago had he just sucked up his pride and asked the doctor for a helping hand. Lord knows they made a hell of a team with their resources combined, not to mention each knew the other could hold their own when it came to the end of the trail. Reid stopped his inner pity party with a sigh and a single question.

“How have you been?” the doctor asked hesitantly. Damn him, McCullum thought, couldn’t he keep the topics to shop talk?

“Busy,” he replied curtly, “so with my job here done, I’ll be gettin’ back to it.” 

“Geoffrey, I really think it would be beneficial to both of us if we talked about this,” Reid tried to placate him while McCullum picked his steps to the door carefully through the mess of strewn about rocks. He didn’t answer the man even when he reached the fallen pillar that lay in front of the opening and looked all around it for a passage big enough to squeeze himself through. It occurred to him only then that he may have a problem.

With clenched fists and gritted teeth he turned back to Reid with the knowledge that his glare wouldn’t be lost in the darkness. “Help me move this,” he demanded. He could just barely make out Reid’s frown but he definitely saw the leech fold his arms over his chest. 

“You’re being ridiculous, McCullum, be sensible and talk to me.”

“I’ve got nothin’ to say to you,” he lied as he tried to heave the great stone away from the door, but the rock was mountainous and not going anywhere. He gave it one last defiant kick anyway.

“There’s no reason for you to be so absurdly bullheaded about this.”

“Do you ever shut your damn mouth? Keep your fangs hidden and leave off,” McCullum snarled. He’d abandoned the door and taken to walking around the edge of the room instead, seeking an alternative escape. 

Jonathan made the most exasperated noise and didn’t move from his spot to help in the man’s search. “There’s no other exit, Geoffrey,” he told him without looking. “This is a sealed crypt. Or, at least it was,” he mumbled looking about the decrepit tomb-turned-battlefield. He moved his hands to his pockets and kicked a piece of rubble into a darkened corner. 

“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’ take yer word for it,” McCullum jabbed running his hand along the smooth expanse of the back wall. He gazed up at the window’s high above him, but even if he could reach and pry the metal bars from their slots, it would be a tight fit. He wasn’t sure if he could squeeze through either of them anyway. He kept going. 

“Why are you being so stubborn?” Reid tried again. “I told you nothing would come of it. I only told you in the first place because I thought you had a right to know.” When McCullum ignored him again and continued his fruitless mapping of the room, Reid pressed on undeterred. “And I don’t regret telling you. But I wished you’d have a little more… compassion.”

McCullum barked a laugh, a single, dark sound with no humor to it. “I don’ need to have compassion for leeches,” he argued. He’d made his way around the circumference of the room in its entirety and found himself back at the door again with Reid never having budged from his spot nearby. 

“But you would if I wasn’t one?” Reid asked. McCullum, tellingly, didn’t answer. “This isn’t what I wanted,” the doctor moped flatly. 

“Then what did you want!?” McCullum finally snapped and was snarling in the doctors face in the span of three steps. He was seething in an instant, Reid’s words only the final slice to his endlessly frayed nerves. Who was he to talk about wanting?

“I don’t know!” Reid yelled back more defeated than furious. “I don’t know! I don’t know what I want, I don’t know what I intended, I didn’t know how you’d react or what you wanted but I-” the doctor cut himself short and ran a hand roughly through his mussed hair. McCullum studied his features in the low light, and his eyes had adjusted enough to note the distress evident in the hard set of his mouth and the tightness around his eyes. He’d never seen the doctor so riled and it made the hunter bristle. Reid wanted his compassion, but it was McCullum’s secret that the leech already had it. His chest ached at the look on the man’s face, and though he’d be damned if he called it “softening” he could still feel the fight leaving him like a waterfall having been cut off by a dam. This wasn’t the doctor’s fault, he reminded himself. It was his fault for bringing up the topic after McCullum had tried to lay it to rest again and again, but the leech couldn’t be blamed for having a heart. He saw the frustration lining his face and noted the way he kept his eyes low almost made him look shy. 

“Reid,” he asked for the man’s attention much more softly and the doctor granted it. “You know this can’t happen,” he said, his voice almost sad. They stood so close that even with the failing light he could see the blue in Reid’s pale eyes before he looked away again. It was an odd look that the man wore, a mask of anger and confusion, but more than anything the set of his eyes betrayed dejection. 

When Reid raised his head again McCullum hadn’t expected him to also slowly raise his hand to cradle the hunter’s cheek and his breath caught when cool skin pressed to his stubbled jaw, and though instinct told him to recoil he allowed the man this small mercy. 

“Why do you say it like that? Back at the gates, too,” he asked the depths of McCullum’s eyes. “You said ‘this can’t happen’,” he repeated. McCullum swallowed thickly. 

“Ay, an’ I was right. I can’t have this, Reid. There’s nothin’ here for us.”

“You’re lying to me,” Reid challenged and McCullum’s brows pinched in question, the confusion evident on his face. 

“I don’t lie. I’ma man of my word,” he argued but Reid shook his head. He wanted to say this right and McCullum knew there was more to come, but the quiet was becoming unbearable again. “Let me go, Reid.” The doctor looked at him sorrowfully but dropped his hand from McCullum’s face, albeit very slowly, his fingertips dragging lightly down his cheek like teardrops. 

“I thought about turning you, you know,” Reid admitted quietly. 

McCullum’s chin jerked up and his expression was purely bewildered. “What?” he asked stunned. 

“When we fought, I was so furious you wouldn’t listen. I only wanted you to know what it was like to be hunted, to have every door shut in your face because of what you are no matter how hard you try to be a good person, because even a malevolent human is better than a benevolent leech.” McCullum was speechless, only able to search Reid’s darkened face for answers to questions he couldn’t dare voice. “But I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” the doctor continued. “I knew it would’ve been a petty revenge born purely of spite. So I spared you.” 

The hunter cocked his head, stunned, the disbelief plain on his face. Death was not something he feared, he faced it head-on every night of his life, but coming face to face with his own undeath without even realizing it was a harder pill to swallow. The turmoil in his expression must’ve been evident as Reid shifted closer into McCullum’s space and replaced his palm on the man’s cheek, and this time the other hand followed suit to cradle McCullum’s face in both as gently as if he were holding a baby bird. McCullum fidgeted in his grasp and clutched at Reid’s wrists with a grip like a vice, but he didn’t pull away, only held him firmly.

“Would it have made a difference?” the vampire asked hushed. “If I had made you like me, or if I were like you? Would you still be saying these things if we were cut from the same cloth?” The pad of Reid’s thumb smoothed over the skin of the hunter’s cheekbone, and it was such a tender gesture McCullum had to grit his teeth again and squeeze his eyes shut as he took steadying breaths. When he opened them again Reid’s face was so close his eyes were all he could focus on, a dizzying vortex he was sure to lose himself in if he let it. He ripped Reid’s left hand away from his face by the wrist, but still clutched to the right like a lifeline, unable to let go.

“McCullum,” Reid murmured, “tell me truly, as a man who doesn’t lie; If we were of a kind, could we still not have this? And if the answer is truly no and you never wish to see me again, I promise I’ll never darken your doorway another night.” McCullum’s nails dug into the flesh of Reid’s wrist so tightly it must’ve been painful, but the doctor never broke his gaze, so it was the hunter who had to drop his chin to his chest. The hand on Reid’s wrist trembled slightly. 

“Stop,” McCullum whispered. He knew Reid could hear it. “Enough. Let it lie, please,” he begged. He felt cool skin gently nudge his forehead and when he opened his eyes he realized Reid had bowed his own forehead to rest upon McCullum’s. 

“Tell me to leave,” whispered Reid. McCullum swallowed thickly again. 

“Leave,” he stated gruffly but just as quiet. 

“Tell me you _want_ me to leave.” 

Geoffrey felt like he was in physical pain with the tension threatening to snap his body into pieces like a brittle rubber band, and he threw Jonathan’s hand away from his face with far more vitriol than he felt. He fisted the lapels of Jonathan’s coat suddenly and yanked. With as close as they already were it made little difference, but the illusion of control helped steady the hunter some. His expression was tortured, but Reid’s wasn’t much happier. 

“What do you expect me to do?” he asked incredulously. Did the vampire not see the position he was in here?

“I don’t know what I expect… You always surprise me after all,” Reid answered truthfully. “I want you to feel that you deserve the things you want.” He gently cupped McCullum’s wrists still folded in his lapels with each hand, a bizarre and distorted mirror image of their positions only a moment ago, and waited. McCullum cleared his throat and pulled away just a fraction but left his fists entangled in the doctor’s coat. 

“This could never be easy, Reid, we’d be fightin’ everything every step a the way. There is no happy endin’ here, can’t ya see that?” he asked in desperation.

“I don’t need easy, Geoffrey. Just you, in my life, in whatever capacity I can,” Jonathan simplified and tightened his grip of the hunter’s wrists. “I know you’re a fighter. I want you to say you’ll fight with me, because I want to fight for you.” 

The trembling in his hands hadn’t subsided despite Jonathan’s strong grip on his arms, and as he pulled in another deep breath that hitched in his chest and threatened to crack his ribs apart he felt as though he would shatter with the slightest touch. He tightened his hold to force away the shaking and pulled the doctor closer until they were chest to chest and he leaned in dangerously close to those cold lips he knew to be soft, just barely containing pearly white fangs he knew to be sharp. 

“Stop me,” he almost pleaded. 

“…No,” Reid breathed. 

Even with his kiss, McCullum was cautious, restrained despite his surrender. He laid his lips over Reid’s own in the most hesitant of gestures, hardly a kiss at all, but it was enough Jonathan thought his dead heart might just leap back to life. Almost as soon as it had begun, Geoffrey pulled back that fraction of an inch to separate himself, but he lingered in the vampire’s space, his lips still within easy kissing distance and breathing the other man’s air. Jonathan was at a loss for words, as none seemed to be neither fitting nor important anymore. McCullum had never been so conflicted in all his adult life, but as much as he’d deny it he did know what he wanted, and it was right in front of him. His bastard of a right hand snuck up Jonathan’s lapel and slipped calloused fingers behind his ear to palm the side of the Ekon’s head and Jonathan leaned into it like it was the only warmth to be found on a cold winter’s night. 

When Geoffrey kissed him again he pulled the taller man down rather than pushed up to meet him, and Jonathan went easily where he was guided. The lips beneath the hunter’s own weren’t cold, though they weren’t warm either, but they were as soft as he’d remembered them pressed against his skin all those months ago, and when he felt Jonathan’s wide hands settle on his hips and span the expanse of his hipbones he relaxed forward just an inch, leaning against and allowing Jonathan to take his weight. His other arm wound itself behind the doctor’s neck, as much to hold himself upright as it was to keep the doctor close, and the nails of his other hand scratched harshly against the vampire’s scalp when Jonathan parted his lips ever so slightly in silent invitation. It was good of him to ensure Geoffrey was the one to instigate, so when he opened his mouth for McCullum to do what he pleased with the proposition, Reid was both relieved and delighted when the hunter snatched the opportunity and slid the heat of his tongue between the vampire’s lips. 

Every part of him was laid out for the Irishman to do as he pleased and Jonathan was all too grateful to be devoured. McCullum seemed to be intent on tracing every part of his mouth with that wicked tongue, sucking Jonathan’s own into his mouth before going back and outlining the cut of his dastardly sharp teeth. Jonathan was nearly overwhelmed by the onslaught but still craved for more, held back only by the fear of scaring the man away after having come so far, so he dug his fingers deeper into McCullum’s hips and met the man’s ministrations with care. The Priwen leader seemed pleased with the rough handling of his hips and bit lightly but dangerously into the Ekon’s bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth and hitching Jonathan’s breath in his throat. Cold wasn’t something that bothered him anymore, but still the doctor shivered from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes when the other finally withdrew his bite.

McCullum hadn’t realized his eyes had slid shut again until his breathing had returned to normal and he opened them to see Reid was in a similar state, his chest rising and falling with deep redundant breaths, and his face and hair a picture of debauchery. His lips were overtly red and glistening in the low light of the crypt and it was only with great effort that Geoffrey was able to tear his gaze away from them. He met Reid’s gaze and his face was still so close it would only take a twitch to bring them back together, but even through the haze in his head, McCullum knew their time was limited. 

With a weary sigh, McCullum thumped his forehead to Jonathan’s blood crusted shoulder, the bullet wound already long since healed. “I need to be gettin’ back,” he breathed into the doctor’s coat. One of Jonathan’s wide, sure hands rose from his hip to slide up McCullum’s frame and settled on the small of his back to hold him close as he rested his cheek on top of the shorter man’s head. Neither seemed to give the hunter’s words much weight. 

After what may have been minutes or may have been hours, McCullum pulled back a final time to level a look at the doctor, serious and firm, but he did not repeat himself. Jonathan glanced at his plump bruised lips one last time before he tilted his head to steal a final chaste kiss, short but slow, and released his hold around his waist. McCullum let his arms fall back to his sides and stepped away from the man and out of the way of the door, an indication and an order. 

With a heavy heart that all the same somehow felt lighter than it had in months, Jonathan focused his mind on the weight of the darkness enveloping them, allowing it to pool and coil in the doorway where the stone was obstructing. When enough force had gathered around the rock a guttural snarl tore from his throat as he forcibly released the shadows from their binds, shooting them up from the floor and launching the largest remnants of the pillar into the air where they arced and spun violently before crashing back to Earth in the far corner, a good twenty feet from where they had first fallen. Moonlight from the outside spilled into the entryway and the cool night breeze that filtered through was a godsend to clear McCullum’s head in the dusty and mold-eaten tomb. 

“That’ll do,” McCullum praised and picked his way across the debris strewn floor, much easier now that he had light to see his footing. Reid followed him out into the moon soaked courtyard and exhaled the stale air from his lungs in a deep sigh. When he felt eyes on him, he turned to see McCullum staring at him with a look with which he was terribly familiar. 

“You look suspicious,” Reid pointed out. 

“Shouldn’t I be?” McCullum countered without flinching. They were within arms reach of one another and although neither moved to close the gap Jonathan was grateful the other man wasn’t running for the hills yet either. 

“I would hope not,” Reid answered honestly. McCullum studied him curiously but whatever he found in Jonathan’s countenance had either satisfied him enough or disappointed him greatly because he cursed under his breath and looked off into the depths of the graveyard. 

“I have to get back,” was all he said. Jonathan could do nothing but nod and watch the other turn to go. He thought of all the things he could say to reassure the man, things that would bring him peace in these confusing times, but nothing that came to mind seemed worth voicing and before long the man was out of sight, the only remaining trace of him the fleeting feeling of his steadily beating heart and the lingering taste on Jonathan’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My copy of AC Valhalla came so it may be a couple of days before I get a chance to update this again 😬 Io sono spiacente amici miei.


	10. The Venom in your Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If McCullum is going to give up, he's going to give up spectacularly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sluts! So Assassin's Creed Valhalla is kind meh, am I right? Haven't even played it that much yet but I'm not really feeling it.  
> Anyway, thanks for y'alls patience, let's get back to it.

“What’s wrong with you?”

McCullum frowned and looked up from his papers. The brawler standing in front of his desk was one of his best and was generally considered to be McCullum’s right hand man, which was the only reason the Guardsman’s insubordinate tone went un-reprimanded. McCullum tossed his documents back to the desktop and gave the man his attention. 

“Where did you wanna start?” he joked, but his soldier’s direct confrontation had him secretly unsettled, and the brawler crossing his arms over his chest to stare down at him sternly wasn’t helping. 

“You’re not yourself. The boys’re takin’ notice,” he informed him and McCullum’s frown deepened. “And they’re startin’ to talk. You’re up n’ disappearing on us, unfocused, either holed up in your office or out God-knows-where where nobody can get ahold of ya-”

“What’re you on about, Maverick? Yer on thin fuckin’ ice talkin’ to me like that,” he warned him as he leaned over his desk to level a venomous glare. Maverick gave no indication he was bothered. 

“That right there’s what I’m on about, you’re even more buck wild than usual, all over the place! You’re snappin’ at folk over nothin’ one minute and the next it’s like you’re off in space. You were there last week when Wallace let his parabellum discharge in the mess hall and ya hardly blinked an eye at him, but yesterday Colton asks for an extra crate of rounds for his boys and next thing he knows you’re howlin’ that you can’t fix every little thing and he should sort his own self out? What in the seventh layer of Hell has gotten into ya, McCullum?”

“There’s work to be done, I’m off doin’ it. That’s all you need to know, and I expect you to be doin’ the same.”

“That’s all well and good, but the lads aren’t takin’ well to it. It’s suspicious, they don’t like thinkin’ you’re withholdin’ information.” 

“They don’t need to know everything,” McCullum snarled as his voice rose, “they need to know what I deem they oughta. I can’t have men acting independently, they know enough to get the task assigned to them done, end of story.”

“You act independently. Where’ll we be if we need ya when you’re off on one of your lone-wolf missions?”

“Then I expect you to handle it. There are things at play here that I don’t expect you to understand and I don’t need you to. What I need is for you to grin and bear it,” McCullum spat through gritted teeth and thinning patience. 

“You’re hiding somethin’,” Maverick accused and McCullum was on his feet faster than a loose crossbow bolt when he swung his fist down on the desk, sending loose pens skittering across the floor, face furious. No one had ever claimed McCullum’s temper was mild, but Maverick was right about one thing: It had only gotten worse. 

“My actions are my own!” he roared. “An’ I won’t have the likes a you contradictin’ ‘em. I have my reasonings, and I trust you to trust them,” he enunciated. His fist flexed tightly until his knuckles burned and whitened, and he spread his fingers to flatten his palm to the desk in an effort to calm himself.

“Maybe you need a break, sir,” Maverick advised in that same dull monotone. McCullum gave the man a look like he’d just objected at his wedding. 

“Did you hear a thing I just said?” he asked incredulously. 

“I hear ya, sir. But maybe some time to clear your head would do ya some good.” Throughout the conversation Maverick’s expression hadn’t wavered from its stone-cold neutrality, and though it usually put McCullum at ease, tonight it was aggravating that the man could level such disrespect at him and still remain so impassive. The soldier was truly a rock, and it ebbed the fight out of the leader. 

“That’ll be all, soldier. Dismissed,” he told him off. Though still unimpressed, Maverick inclined his head in the smallest of bows before taking his leave. McCullum grimaced as he took his seat and scooped a fallen pen from the floor. 

Maverick hadn’t been wrong. He was scattered, his thoughts disorganized and drifting constantly, but there was no way in Hell he’d let his personal conflicts affect his work. He was still in control, and though he’d grant that his temperament had worsened recently, his decisions were still clear headed and sharp, his reasoning still solid. All the others had to do was follow his barks, and if they couldn’t handle his bite, well then that was on them. Everyone knew he’d always had a gruff nature and if getting the brunt of his misplaced outbursts was too much for them, then they had no place in the Guard to begin with. Through a heavy sigh he laid his head in his hands and rubbed the mounting headache from his temples. Maybe he really did need a vacation. 

“Any other unusual cravings or habits to speak of?” Dr. Reid asked the brunette.

“Nothing of note,” Miss Billow responded cheerfully. They sat on a West End park bench as Reid went through the usual round of follow up questions and was gratified to see the young woman looked remade from her previous self, her cheeks a healthy pink and her hair swept up neatly in a precise and delicate looking bun. Her blouse was neatly pressed underneath her thick winter coat and showed, in Reid’s professional opinion, an ample amount of cleavage considering the chill in the air. His eyes had flickered down once in his initial assessment and had been kept carefully above her pale neckline since, but the flash of a glance hadn’t escaped her notice and she’d smiled sweetly at him.

“No hallucinations of any kind? Auditory or otherwise?” he continued. 

“None at all,” she assured him. Reid scribbled her responses in a small leather-bound notebook before he clipped it shut and stowed it in his breast pocket. 

“Well then, I’m incredibly pleased to grant you a perfectly clean bill of health, Miss Billow,” he smiled to her which she returned in full.

“Oh please Dr. Reid, call me Carina,” she said and laid a gentle hand on the physician’s knee as if it belonged there. “I’m so grateful words can’t express! I can never repay you for this kindness,” she beamed. 

“Your good health is reward enough,” he assured her. 

“Well, still, perhaps-” she swiped a stray lock of hair behind her ear demurely “-perhaps I could treat you to dinner some night? I’m an excellent cook I’ll have you know, and I’m sure a doctor as busy as yourself may not always take the time to eat proper meals.”

“Ah,” Reid began with the swift intention of shutting her down immediately, but to his own surprise he hesitated. He’d had patients attempt to seduce him before, a common syndrome as it was, and he’d always remained professional and politely declined any advances, but lately his thoughts had been distracting and a bit… carnal so to speak. Miss Billow was not actually a patient of his, only a woman in need of a unique form of help that had been in his power to give, a relationship of any sort with her wouldn’t have been unethical in the slightest and yet, despite his yearning, he knew he had no heart in the matter. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” he indulged her, “but I’m afraid my nights are spoken for.” Carina’s mouth dropped opened slightly and her brows raised in surprise.

“Oh,” she glanced at her own hand on the doctor’s knee and rescinded it like she had touched hot metal. “Goodness, Dr. Reid I’m terribly embarrassed, and very sorry, you wear no ring and I…”

“Oh, that’s, well…” Reid began as the misunderstanding dawned on him, but the excuse she’d handed him on a silver platter was too convenient to refute. “Rings can be quite the hassle during surgeries,” he told her instead. It was heartening to hear Carina laugh genuinely despite his rejection, and she still smiled at him fondly. 

“I suppose they would. Well-” she stood and brushed the wrinkles from her skirt “-I appreciate your following up with me all these weeks Doctor, and if you ever find yourself hungry and in the neighborhood, you know where to find me.” 

“I’ll certainly remember that,” he said and stood with her. “Thank you for your generosity. Until next time, Carina.”

As he watched her walk away with her head held high, he indulged in a moment of self reflection. He wouldn’t delude himself into believing he hadn’t been lonely since his return to London, longing for connection in more than the emotional sense, and yet he’d turned away a perfectly healthy young woman who, in his unprofessional opinion, was very well endowed. Why shouldn’t he take her to bed? She was a beauty from any angle, the type that Reid once would’ve loved to buy a drink for, but… how could he? The secret he harbored felt like a lie, one by omission but still a covering of the truth, and the theoretical dishonesty weighed heavily on him. The realm of human contact was truly one he had no place in anymore.

He could deal with the lonely days just as he had his lonely human nights, but back then he’d had other supports. Friends and family, colleagues and brothers in arms he could connect and share with, but now he was well and truly alone, ostracized from his human companions and an outsider to the world of vampires. 

It was moments like this he most wanted to seek out the one person who could make him feel human again, the sole individual who he could joke and laugh with without fear of secrets, without having to hide a part of who he was, and who could allow him to relive a bit of those happier days when the world was simple, if only for a night. Although perhaps it wasn’t pretending to be normal that helped Jonathan breath easier, but McCullum’s knowledge and ultimate acceptance of what Jonathan really was that gave him some respite from the crushing weight of solitude. The Priwen leader was the only person he felt he could be wholly himself around, but he was also the person he most feared scaring away if he were to act on his cravings to be closer. The man was not the hugging type. Though he was a damn good kisser. 

Jonathan wasn’t sure what came over him that night in the mausoleum over a week ago, all he knew was that McCullum drove him up the fucking wall and it made him want to grab the hunter by the collar and shove him up against one. All his usual composure crumbled when they clashed like that until the frustration boiled over into a demanding, forceful persona Jonathan had never known before. He had never intended to push McCullum, but if the man would just _talk_ to him they could have moved past all of this by now, although where that would bring them was anyone’s guess. He wasn’t sure what the end goal was, if there was one at all, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to give all he had to reach for it. He’d fight tooth and nail, or fang and claw, just for the opportunity to prove to McCullum that he could be so much more than a weapon to be wielded. He could handle his disinterest in pursuing romance, but he still wished he could be perceived as more than just a lack of a threat. He wanted to help him, comfort him when he needed it, he wanted to make him smile in spite of everything and be a shoulder to cry on if the man would ever allow himself the indignity. If he was amenable to more then it was all the better, but while McCullum’s mouth had been onboard the man himself was as hostile as ever, and Jonathan ran the risk of snapping the tentative gossamer thread that connected the two of them the more he spoke of it. 

He would give the man space. He would not seek him out. 

Reid couldn’t detect the hunter’s heartbeat inside the theater which meant he was either in another safehouse or out galavanting through the streets. Either way, Reid had no business here. He was going about his routine rounds and had no need to keep such a sharp eye out for such a particular pulse, but that didn’t stop him from immediately veering left down a narrow side street and back onto the main road as soon as he’d felt the familiar drumming of a telltale rhythm. The usual gruff accent met him before he caught sight of the hunter leading two younger boys down the street, keeping his voice low but stern as they trailed close behind him eagerly. 

“Always on guard, the leeches that’re smart enough to think think two things when they see Guardsmen,” McCullum threw a glance over his shoulder and raised a finger for each point. “One: threat that should be avoided, or two: threat that should be eliminated. Bein’ a member of the Guard means wearin’ a target on yer back, so make sure you’ve always got someone there to watch it.”

Reid hesitated in the darkness, wanting to reach out but not wanting to start a ruckus in front of McCullum’s men. Catching Geoffrey on his own was a highly anticipated opportunity, but in potentially unpleasant company it felt intrusive, not to mention dangerous. He watched instead and waited until the trio stomped on past where the doctor lurked in his darkened corner, and once they’d rounded the turn at the end of the street Reid followed silently. It once took a great deal of concentration to maintain his cover of invisibility, but he had grown much stronger since his turning and could now glide through the streets under the cover of shadow with ease, the citizen’s untrained eyes sliding right off him like raindrops on duck feathers.

That must have been why, when McCullum stopped suddenly in the middle of the street only to slowly turn and stare straight through Jonathan that his breath sucked between his teeth in a nearly audible hiss. The young rookies stopped a foot short of crashing into McCullum’s broad back and stumbled to catch themselves as they glanced around curiously, trying to find the source of their leader’s pause. Reid stood still as a statue while McCullum’s stern eyes glided over his blurred silhouette up and down the otherwise empty street, still seemingly unsatisfied as he turned back, spat on the pavement, and continued on his trek, leaving the rookies to share a confused glance before hustling to catch up. 

The bewildered Ekon did not immediately follow. McCullum couldn’t have seen him, and the younger recruits most definitely hadn’t noticed anything was amiss, but that penetrating stare had still frozen the marrow of his bones. The hunter always surprised him, and Jonathan felt a proud smirk creep across his unseen face as he wondered if, perhaps, McCullum was just that good. 

Much sooner than anticipated, McCullum sent the boys on their way back to base, with instructions not to get themselves eaten before they got there.

“We can get eaten once we get there though?” The lighter haired boy quipped. McCullum’s lip twitched and he ruffled his tawny head fondly. 

“‘Nough lip,” he scolded, “now git.”

He kept his eye on the lads until they rounded the corner, only then shooting a sweeping glance over the empty street and pulling back into the mouth of a darkened alley where he leaned against the wall and pulled his cigarette case from his breast pocket. As he lit up, his eyes flicked to and fro, scanning the darkness as if by second nature. 

Reid had perched himself on the rooftop across the street to watch the scene unfold and dropped from the high ledge with practiced ease, his feet landing lightly on the hard stone with a quiet thump. McCullum didn’t raise his gaze as Reid released the shadows enshrouding him, but there was no mistaking the subtle floundering of his heart.

“You’ve been followin’ me,” he glossed over his hammering pulse cooly. There was no hiding the pounding in his chest from Reid, but still he willed the violent thing to calm. 

“How could you tell?” Reid wanted to know. McCullum raised his eyes and smiled cheekily as he tapped the side of his nose with a single finger.

“I have a nose for machinations, remember? Can smell a leech from a mile away.” Jonathan shared his smile in equal measure and leaned on the wall opposite with hands in his pockets. 

“So I recall. But tell me truthfully, what gave me away?”

McCullum shrugged and took another drag. “Hard to explain. I just get a feeling. Yer harder to pin down, always the exception y’are, but I can still tell.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Reid replied and left it at that. Neither spoke for a time as McCullum smoked and Jonathan tried to plot his words. 

“Reid,” McCullum began at the same moment Jonathan said, “I’d like to-” before the Ekon cut himself off. They met eyes and Reid gestured for McCullum to take the floor and so the man blew a steady stream of smoke before starting again.

“About the other night,” he began as he turned the cigarette absently between his fingers, “you were right about a lotta things, but so was I.” Jonathan thought he’d have to drag the topic of their mausoleum encounter out of the hunter, but even though Geoffrey offering it up himself came as a gift horse that Jonathan wasn’t about to look in the mouth by interrupting, he had a bad feeling about where this was going. “It was a combination of a lotta things. Been under a lotta stress, and I took it out on you.”

It was a piss-poor apology, if it could even so be called, but an apology entailed a wrongdoing and Jonathan cut him off again. 

“Do not dare to say ‘this can’t happen’ again. If I have to hear that phrase once more I’m likely to tear your vocal cords out.” The amused smirk that flashed across McCullum’s face was brief and restrained but it eased some of the tension from around the corner’s of his eyes, and in turn from Jonathan’s own shoulders. This was more familiar terrain than their tumultuous fights on “feelings,” witty banter coming much more easily to the both of them, and the air suddenly wasn’t quite so stifling in spite of the heavy subject.

“I’d like to see you try,” he challenged reflexively before schooling his expression. “Was just another mistake, Reid. One I can’t afford to make again.” With a definitive hiss he extinguished his cigarette on the brick wall he leaned against and waited for Reid to argue, but the Ekon just looked curiously thoughtful. 

“What exactly is the worst thing you could expect to happen if you were to indulge yourself for once?”

McCullum’s brow furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out just enough to be distracting. “Ya kill me in my sleep and eat half of London?” he answered seriously through his playful tone. Jonathan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose exasperatedly.

“How many times must we sing this song, Geoffrey? My appetites are under control,” he insisted as he pushed off from the opposite wall, “you’re safe with me, as is London.”

“You’ll have to forgive my suspicions, doctor. It wouldn’t be the first time I paid too steep a price for trust,” McCullum informed him darkly, the last traces of humor gone from his voice. It weighed heavy on Reid’s heart, the hurt that this man had endured to harden into the warrior that stood before him now, but it was a deep and distinctive bruise he understood well and was reluctant to prod. The doctor moved closer to stand in the hunter’s space and was pleased when again the man allowed it, however warily. It was equal parts the picture of solemnity on Reid’s face and his own pride that grounded McCullum and refused to let him shy away.

“Geoffrey,” Reid stated clearly yet quietly, “I have never, and will never, harbor any intentions to harm you. I didn’t kill you then, I refuse to hurt you now.” There was a desperation clawing inside of Reid to reach out to touch the hunter and establish that physical connection, to bridge the corporeal gap between them as well as the mental one, but he was a rational man of boundaries and he would not slip up again. He'd promised himself he would not press. 

So when McCullum’s face fell Jonathan’s heart sunk with it, and when the hunter’s hands rose to hold Jonathan’s hips snugly his hopes rose with them. They were nearly of a height, Jonathan having only and inch or two over McCullum, and when the human looked him in the eye to convey his gravity Jonathan wondered which of them was really the one with mesmeric power. 

“’S not about intentions, Reid. It’s about actions. I may very well believe ya when ya say you care about me, that you don’ wanna hurt people. But I know, that thirst will get the better of you someday, and when the blood runs it’ll be on my hands because I didn’t stop you.” Jonathan grit his teeth and fought to tamp down the frustration bubbling in his chest as he gripped the man’s shoulders, the other’s hands still firm on his waist. 

“You know nothing of the thirst I’m burdened with. And you’re not the one burdened with its consequences. It’s fierce, but I manage, in the hospital, in surgery, in these blood soaked streets, every night! I can’t explain to you what it’s like, but it has gotten easier. And I promise you Geoffrey, I am in control of it. I’m not going to give in.” Torn from all directions, Geoffrey looked agonized beneath his facade of stone. At a glance he was as collected as always, but up close Jonathan could see the lines creasing the firm shape of his mouth, the tension ladened in his jaw, and could feel the nails biting into his hips through his outer coat. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” McCullum admonished him with little force behind it, his voice tired and deflated. 

“I don’t.” 

It was such a simple reassurance, a resolute vow, and McCullum couldn’t help but sigh as he tilted his chin up, just enough, and Jonathan met him halfway. 

When their lips met Jonathan was overwhelmed for the second time by Geoffrey’s warmth, and he draped his arms around the man’s shoulders to bring himself closer. Geoffrey’s own hands slid to rest on the small of Jonathan’s back and pressed firmly, dragging him forward by the hips. It was astounding to the doctor just how firm McCullum was in everything he did, rarely hesitant, everything with purpose, and the strange juxtaposition of his gentle hands and soft lips left Jonathan’s head spinning. It was different from their last kiss which had been so rushed and aggressive, more akin to an angry, drunken brawl than a gesture of affection. This one was infinitely softer with less desperate teeth and tongue and more soft presses and gentle exploration, the taste of it almost sad. 

When they pulled apart they didn’t go far, just enough for McCullum to draw breath and catch the pale blue of Reid’s bright eyes, devoid of red and filled with fondness. After all this time his sclera lacked all trace of blood, not a soul on his conscience save for his own sister, a memory that obviously still pained him greatly. McCullum had never seen his like, and to his own fury and disgust, he was hopeful. Hopeful that perhaps, just maybe, there was a chance this one could be different. In all other aspects, he already was. 

“What’s this supposed to be then?” McCullum whispered against cool lips. Reid chased them as the hunter’s eyes drifted shut for another short, light kiss. 

“I won’t ask for more than you’re willing to give.”

“Don’t be so fuckin’ noble,” McCullum groused and tucked a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “Tell me what you want from me.” Reid smiled and returned the kiss with one of his own, turning his nose to press against the skin of the hunter’s neck. 

“I want _for_ you, Geoffrey,” he corrected with another peck, “I want to be there for you-” another gentle press of lips “-around you. I wish you were with me for the most banal of things. I think of you so often it drives me mad, I can’t tell you how often you occupy my mind.” Jonathan detected the quickening of McCullum’s pulse as he trailed his mouth along the vein of his throat and rested his lips in the hollow there, kisses feather light and cool.

“Plannin’ on droppin’ down on one knee tonight too, Reid?” McCullum breathed with his chin up and throat exposed, head tilted back to lie against the hard brick of the wall behind him. He hadn’t forgotten the prominent fangs separated from his trachea by only a pair of sinful velvet lips, and he could feel Reid smile against him when his breath came sharply as bright white teeth worried the fragile skin. 

“I can’t decide if I prefer the Geoffrey that teases or the Geoffrey that shoots me on sight.”

“One and the same, leech,” McCullum assured him airily and swallowed hard when the doctor’s tongue flicked over his thrumming pulse.

Reid was enraptured in his own ministrations to McCullum’s neck, nibbling and sucking harsh bruises along the column of his throat, and McCullum’s instincts had him taught as a bow string while his skin prickled with goosebumps from the thrill of it as he struggled to even draw air properly. He sucked in raspy breaths as best he could as his fingers wound into Reid’s pristine hair and held tight, serving to spur the vampire further until the frayed string of McCullum’s patience snapped. 

With all the speed one would’ve expected of a vampire, McCullum pushed himself from the wall with a hard shove to the doctor’s chest, but instead of letting the man go flying he followed him back until Reid’s shoulders had slammed into the opposite wall on the other side of the narrow backstreet and Reid hissed indignantly. His protests were short lived when McCullum sank his teeth into the meat where Reid’s shoulder met his neck, just above the collarbone that threatened to escape his loosened button-up, and he let out a satisfying grunt. Reid trusted McCullum to be smart enough not to break the skin, but he was dancing a fine line with just how savagely his teeth scrapped along the shallow tendon beneath his jaw. As he trailed heavy kisses and lighter bites across any expanse of skin he could find, the hunter left behind a chain of purple splotches that he thumbed curiously as he went. 

“How long do these last on you?” he asked breathlessly. Reid was in no state to process human speech, but was vaguely aware McCullum was waiting on an answer.

“What?” he asked dazed. McCullum tapped his forefinger to the darkest of the marks, a deep burgundy oval in the crook between his Adam’s apple and carotid. 

“How long will this last?”

“I’m… I’m not sure. I suppose it depends on my blood content,” Reid fought through the haze. 

“Mm,” McCullum hummed. 

“Geoffrey, I-”

“If yer wantin’ this, we do it right,” McCullum cut him off. Reid had never heard his voice so husky, and it was doing unbelievable things to a very deeply primitive part of his hindbrain. He didn’t have much time to construct an argument before McCullum bit down hard on the shell of his ear that nearly buckled him at the knee and he muffled a reedy little cry, nodding as vigorously as he was able with his ear still held hostage. “Not here,” the hunter whispered, “tomorrow, meet me at the dockside hideout. Sun’s comin’ up.” Jonathan’s eyes flicked to the mouth of the alley where indeed the shadows had begun to recede. His time was up. 

McCullum swooped in to kiss him properly again with a final slip of tongue that Jonathan almost didn’t have time to match. When the hunter pulled away his hands slid from their place on his chest and melted down the sides of his body, resting lightly on his hips before falling away completely. 

“Don’ be late,” he warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all catch that Good Omens reference lol  
> Will they have hate sex next update? Who knows! Certainly not me! I thought they would’ve been married three chapters ago but here we are.


	11. At The End of All Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two men scramble for definitions 
> 
> Listen, I know standing showers weren’t common in 1918 okay. I know. But this is for the DRAMA okay, the je ne sais quoi, the vibes my bro. And this is how the showers at my station are set up so just let me live.
> 
> There may be an epilogue chapter for this fic but otherwise this is done. There will, however, be a continuation of this story in another fic that I will link to this one. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it y'all good luck

Dr. Reid had never felt so unsteady in all his unnatural life as he glided through the Pembroke just as dawn broke loose of the skyline. Knowing the only thing separating him from the looming sun to be thin hospital walls unnerved the doctor and lined his shoulders with undue tension, but he was a mess of nerves and the grime of the city nightlife clung to his skin like frost to morning grass. A shower was in order before he turned in for the day, and he pushed through the heavy double doors of the employee quarters with a tired resignation. 

When the hot spray beat down on the back of his neck it tore a redundant sigh from his chest. Tired and dazed as he was, it felt marvelous to be clean, and to feel warm. He rubbed his thumbs deep into the muscle of his neck and willed the strain to ebb, closing his eyes and letting the scalding water run down his face only to open them again when he felt the familiar pulsing of an approaching heart. His silent prayer went unanswered as the steady beat turned the corner separating the showers from the locker room and Dr. Strickland gave him an innocent smile. 

“Good morning, Dr. Reid,” he greeted him good-naturedly and slung his towel over a protruding hook next to Reid’s own. 

“Good morning, Dr. Strickland,” Reid replied as he rinsed soap lather from his hair. He didn’t move even when the water ran clear, but lingered under the warmth and let his eyes drift shut again until he heard a soft chuckle. With a crack of a single eye he regarded the doctor with an idle curiosity but raised his gaze when the other’s smirk became too evident to ignore. 

“Rough night off, was it?” he laughed before Reid could ask. 

“Pardon?” Reid questioned as he brushed his wet mop of hair back from his forehead. Strickland tilted his chin up and rubbed a hand along his throat with a smirk that would have been obnoxious had it not been so exasperatingly fond, but Reid could only blink at him dumbly until the man chuckled again and took pity. 

“The bruises, Doctor. It looks as though you were mauled by a squid.” 

Despite the explanation, the gears in Jonathan’s head cranked slowly until the teeth broke and his mind was suddenly freewheeling downhill so quickly his feet carried him with a speed that would have a normal man sliding on the wet tile. He rounded the corner into the locker room and leaned as close to the mirror spanning the length of the wall above the line of sinks as he could. Pawing and poking at the bruises littering the column of his throat, he moved his head this way and that to assess the damage and had to admit that Strickland was spot on; his neck looked like he’d been assaulted by a particularly determined octopus. A litany of uncharacteristic curses slipped from his lips as he returned to the shower to wrap his towel around his waist. Strickland’s grin was teasing but genuine, and Reid couldn’t fault him for his fun. 

“Apologies Dr. Reid, I hadn’t meant to offend,” he offered. Reid shook his head but refused to meet his eyes all the same. 

“Not at all, I just hadn’t realized the… extent,” he confessed, “a good day to you, Doctor.” With that, Reid absconded to the locker room to fetch his clothes and called it a day. 

With the sun already far above the horizon by the time Reid reached the second floor a quick hunting trip was out of the question, and so he was only able to pray to any god that may have been listening that the offending bruises would heal by nightfall without a supplement of fresh blood. He cursed McCullum under his breath as he thumbed the marks absently in the comfort of his bed, and as the claws of sleep sunk into his consciousness and finally pulled him under, he fell asleep with a hand to his neck, holding his own throat. 

When McCullum made it back to base not long after, he was riding high and though his chest was still tight and jittery, he felt lighter than he had in months. Unfortunately for the charismatic leader, his good mood was doomed from the start as soon as the boys laid eyes on him. 

“Christ Almighty, what the hell happened to you?” a captain prodded. 

“That supposed to be a new kinda leech deterrent? Like cheetah print?” another hounded.

“What’re you on about?” McCullum bristled throwing up his trademark scowl. 

“Yer neck looks like a toothless cat tried to decapitate ya.” 

McCullum could feel the clench in his jaw before he was conscious of tensing it, and he returned the boys’ smirks with what he hoped was an indifferent glare. He knew his men, which meant he knew to get defensive about something was a direct invitation to ridicule it mercilessly. 

“Best watch yerself then, before yer next,” he joked easily and joined the men where they’d gathered in the sitting room. There was a fire in the hearth and a comfortable air, and the men lounged in an indulgent moment of peace that even McCullum had no desire to disturb as he settled into a corner of the old couch.

“You ain’t gonna tell us about the lucky gal then?” the brawler beside him niggled.

“Ask her yerself, she’s your mum after all,” he quipped back smartly with the driest tone he could deadpan, and the resounding cheers and guffaws from the crew almost tugged a smile to his face. The brawler’s tense mouth betraying the effort it took not to give in to the laughs actually did. 

Although he didn’t stay long, the fatigue settling heavier in his bones the higher the sun climbed, he put in as much face time with the crew as he could muster before he hauled himself up the stairs. They let him go easily enough with a handful of hoots and whistles that he took on the chin like a man oughta, but it was only when he pulled down his collar in the mirror in the corner of his office that he realized how well founded their jeers were. His neck was truly a tapestry of blues, pinks, and purples, like Reid had painted a sunset across his skin with his devil tongue. Absolute bastard, McCullum wanted to growl, the fucking nerve. He stripped and threw himself into bed as if it were a chore rather than a relief and waited impatiently for sleep to drag him down.

McCullum, self-servant bastard that he was, hadn’t bothered to give Reid a time to meet, and it was only by sheer luck that Jonathan was able to get Dr. Strickland to cover his shift with only a minimum of that knowing twinkle in the young doctor’s eye. With the only clue to go off of being “don’t be late,” Jonathan set out for the docks as soon as the oppressing sun renounced its hellish grip on the night sky, and arrived at the hideout to find it unsurprisingly empty. Though he felt a bit embarrassed by his childlike overeagerness, he made his peace with it quickly enough. He’d made it clear how he felt and wasn’t about to go back on it now, so he climbed the stairs to the top floor where his makeshift desk stood against a boarded up door. The room was sparse otherwise, made up of only the workstation, the table and chairs they’d occupied previously, and the bed in the corner of the room with his trunk at the foot. In an effort to busy himself, he turned his attention to his work desk and waited. 

Jonathan, thoughtful and polite toff that he was, left the porch light on for McCullum. He could feel him drawing closer from a mile away, but he continued his tinkering until he heard the knob turn and the door creak. He didn’t turn as heavy boots sounded on the wooden floor, almost unnaturally silent considering their wearer’s stock. He didn’t look even when McCullum’s voice floated just behind his ear.

“Not safe to leave your doors unlocked, Doctor. There’s dangerous people about,” he murmured. Reid left the pistol and screwdriver on the desk and swiveled his chair to slowly face the hunter, eyes alight and focused. Geoffrey looked down at him with curiosity written across his face, like a cat not quite sure what to do with the canary. 

“Then I’m glad you’re here to protect me,” Reid replied just as hushed, as if the dream would shatter if they were loud enough to wake themselves. The look that flickered through McCullum’s eyes was uncertain, but it smoothed out completely when Reid hooked his fingers through McCullum’s belt, and the hunter went willingly. He braced a hand on the back of Reid’s chair just over his shoulder and laid a knee on the outside of the doctor’s thigh as a cool hand pulled gently at the back of his neck, bowing him low to meet Reid’s kiss. 

McCullum hated a lot of things, but the only thing he could find it in himself to curse at that moment was the ferocity of his beating heart, pounding in his chest that he was sure must be deafening to the Ekon whose lap he straddled. He couldn’t be sure when his other leg had settled on the chair to the other side of Reid’s opposite thigh, but the doctor was making it perfectly clear he had no intentions of either of them going anywhere. Impossibly solid arms had snaked around McCullum’s waist, unyielding and tight across his lower back, and Reid had to crane his neck to reach up to meet chapped lips. McCullum could have devoured the man with how feverishly he nipped his lip and ravaged his mouth, jaw gripped in the claws of Geoffrey’s sure hands, and it was with a great reluctance that the pulled back the scant few inches to look the leech in the eye. 

“Listen to me, Reid,” he demanded, “and believe me when I say this wasn’t how this was supposed to go.” Jonathan scoffed but McCullum pressed on. “This is what it is, leech. No more and no less. Do you understand?” 

Jonathan’s expression was torn, his hands still clasped on the small of McCullum’s back, McCullum’s own hitched behind Reid’s neck. An argument danced at the tip of his tongue, but his heart had resigned itself to its lot, and the vampire licked his lips and nodded solemnly, and though McCullum looked far from satisfied, he nodded in turn. 

“Good. Then take me to bed,” he growled and pressed his mouth back to Reid’s, who groaned low and unabashed. The doctor’s hands slipped to cup the back of McCullum’s thighs, and with the effort of a full grown bear picking up its cub lifted the hunter into the air as he stood. McCullum scrambled to cling to Reid’s shoulders with a muffled curse and several insults to the doctor’s person, nails digging savagely into Reid’s shirt before he locked his legs around his hips, only to feel the world spin as his back suddenly hit the mattress. 

In the moment when Reid crowded in on him, his hips settling on the bed and splaying McCullum’s legs apart, a sudden flare of panic threatened to overtake the hunter in an almost welcomed sense of reality, as though it was a confirmation that he hadn’t entirely lost all sense of himself. All he could see was the leech, all he could smell, all he could taste boiled down to the man on top of him consuming every ounce of his self control, and the weight boxing him in and pinning him down burned at every conscious thread of his mind that this would be the end of him. Movements compromised, his core open, arms unable to block an attack that would be too swift to deflect anyway, Geoffrey felt like head butting the vamp just to put some distance between them. 

Jonathan seemed to sense the change, felt the tension in the muscled thigh his hand rested on, and drew his frantic kisses back to slowly trail them down Geoffrey’s jaw and returned to the bruises that still lingered on his throat. The fangs that threatened to scratch across the hunter’s throat didn’t help the poor man’s hammering heart, but his breathing evened out with his mouth free from the devil’s sinful lips.

“Breath, Geoffrey,” Reid said against his still clothed sternum. It sounded more like a plea than instruction. Geoffrey did, and the hands that were once clutched like a lifeline across the back of the doctor’s neck were forced to relax bit by bit. Jonathan took his time, slower and more controlled than before, as he unbuttoned McCullum’s shirt and placed a single chaste kiss to the undershirt beneath where each button had lain. When he’d reached the last one before the shirt tail disappeared beneath the hem of his trousers, he tugged it free with a slow and gentle pull. He kissed his way back up the hunter’s chest, still slow and calming, and was just as relieved as he was incited when he felt a steady hand thread fingers through the roots of his hair at the back of his skull.

“I’m fine, Reid. I won’t break,” McCullum grumbled to the ceiling. A man with nothing to prove and everything to lose, but he was nothing if not honest with himself. He’d been restrained all his life, always disciplined, controlled, strict, but in for a penny in for a pound and if he’d come far enough to admit this was happening, he might as well roll with it. And so roll he did, pushing the side of Jonathan’s head down to the mattress and rolling his hips until he lay atop of him. Pushing himself up to straddle lean thighs, McCullum regarded the vampire as he ghosted fingertips over the newly formed wrinkles on the doctor’s usually pristine shirt. Judging by the unadulterated shine in Reid’s eyes and the quick dart of tongue across his lip, the doctor had never been more pleased to be manhandled. In the midst of a fray, at the neck of a Skal, splattered in the blood of his fellow Ekon, McCullum had seen Reid through it all but never had the doctor’s visage heated his blood like this, with the specters of his own lips still haunting that pale throat and the cold steel in those colorless eyes threatening to fillet him to ribbons. 

“Are you sure about this?” Reid asked hesitantly as he rubbed his palms along he outer edge of McCullum’s thighs. The light hand McCullum was tracing along the doctor’s chest paused, and as his face darkened he fisted his hand into the cloth and yanked it sharply away, popping buttons that clattered noisily on the hardwood floor. Jonathan’s wide eyes blinked up at him in surprise, but McCullum’s own face showed only ferocity.

“You don’t get to be putting doubts in my head now, Reid. I know what I want,” he snarled and continued ripping his way down the doctor’s shirt in spite of his stern frown. 

“That can be done gently, you know.”

“I’m not here for gentle.” McCullum ignored Reid’s raised eyebrow and focused on pulling loose the buckle of his belt before he sat back to shuck his own unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders. With crossed arms, he pulled the hem of his undershirt up and inside out over his head in the most debauched and sinful image Reid had ever seen, his eyes welded to the lean muscle that rolled beneath the scarred skin, and he was helpless to resist the temptation to follow the undershirt’s lead and run his calloused hands up the expanse of Geoffrey’s flanks. There was power underneath, solid and firm, wide shoulders accentuated by thin hips that Reid indulged himself in caressing as Geoffrey returned to pushing at the doctor’s clothes. 

“Off,” he demanded with a fist in the man’s now-buttonless shirt. Reid obliged and sat up, crowding into McCullum’s space as he followed orders and stripped himself before finding the hunter’s lips again. As his tongue delved deeper behind prominent fangs, McCullum felt Jonathan’s sudden aborted upthrust against his groin in a delicious jolt of friction that choked his throat with an unbidden groan. Cursing under his breath he made short work of his belt and buttons, pleased to see Reid doing the same, and he palmed himself roughly to take the edge off. Jonathan gave another impatient roll of his hips to spur the hunter to rid himself of his pants, and having made quick work of his boots McCullum acquiesced and helped the other in turn before sitting back to drink in the sight. 

Jonathan was truly a picture, perfectly pale and smooth as porcelain save for a smattering of small old scars, unremarkable in comparison to McCullum’s own patchwork, and the veneer of fine dark hair that graced his chest was in stark contrast to his pallor. His stomach was toned and lithe, and his half-hard cock lie in the crook of his hip. The look on his face as he gave McCullum the same appreciation was reverent, and he drank in the hunter’s chiseled frame unaware of the approval in the other’s gaze. McCullum was not a bashful man, but the confidence Jonathan’s admiration instilled in him plastered a cocky smirk across his face as he took himself in hand. Only a few strokes were needed to bring him to full hardness, and Jonathan sat up quickly to replace his hand with his own. 

“Geoffrey,” Reid breathed against the shell of his ear, “my bag, by the desk. We’ll want it.” McCullum needed a moment to process his words through the haze born of the too-dry pressure on his sensitive cock, but eventually pieced the puzzle together enough to remove himself from Reid’s grip and fetch his doctor’s briefcase. Resuming his position on the vampire’s lap, he set the case in the tight space between them for Reid to riffle through before he found the small circular tin in question and discarded the bag on the floor. Jonathan unscrewed the cap and set it aside before pressing a lingering kiss to McCullum’s bare chest and wrapping his arms around his thin waist. 

“Sit up for me,” Reid entreated with his face still buried in the short curls of McCullum’s chest hair. A shingle shiver down his spine betrayed the hunter’s final misgivings, but he curled a hand into Jonathan’s thick dark hair and rolled his hips forward regardless to kneel over the doctor’s lap. 

In tandem with soft, distracting kisses to his chest Jonathan gripped McCullum’s firm arse to knead the tender flesh before his right hand slipped away briefly only to return with cool fingers slicked in viscous gel. A single probing tip smoothed over the tight ring of Geoffrey’s hole, coating the opening with oil that made him tense. Jonathan nuzzled the crease of his pectorals more adamantly.

“Relax, hunter.” To McCullum’s credit, he was very much trying to diffuse the ache in his cramping muscles, but the tension he held was not a thing to be dissolved with pretty words alone. Still, Jonathan took his time circling his entrance, spreading the lube, as McCullum breathed deep and slow and loosened in increments. When his hole slackened to Jonathan’s satisfaction and his forefinger finally breached him, McCullum did his best to control the viscous urge to clench down and shut out the intrusion, only releasing his held breath when Jonathan’s knuckles came to rest against him.

It didn’t hurt, to McCullum’s surprise, and it wasn’t much, but it felt like a milestone all the same. Jonathan gave him only a moment’s respite before he retracted the digit a fraction before sliding it home again, and repeated the motion again, and again, and again, farther in and out each time with a gentle curling of his finger, working him open so very slowly and methodically, with a doctor’s precision. McCullum hadn’t been sure what to expect, but although the slight pressure was far from painful, he was waning quickly. 

“Get on with it, Reid,” he complained and felt the doctor smile against his skin.

“You haven’t done this before have you?”

“And you have?” the hunter shot back, irritated.

“You’ll want to be prepared,” Reid replied instead of answering, but he relented by dipping another finger alongside the first.

“There’s a lot of things I thought I wanted,” McCullum hissed at the addition. Jonathan pulled his face from the hunter’s chest to study his eyes, but McCullum had no intentions of meeting his gaze. Reid continued his motions with less caution as his fingers pressed deeper and he twisted his wrist just so. 

McCullum was, to say the least, unprepared for the immediate jolt that ran up his spine, from the very base all the way to the crown of his head and left a tingling in his toes. He swallowed down a barely stifled gasp that threatened to burst from his chest as a radiant pleasure trickled through his gut, but his sudden unsteady breaths were a dead give away that the doctor had hit his mark. A shiver overtook him when Reid dragged out and in again and put stern pressure on that same dastardly spot, and McCullum squirmed in his grip, unnerved by the sensation.

“Shhh,” Jonathan’s sibilant whisper tried to soothe him. Geoffrey ground his teeth and hissed back. 

“Don’t fucking shush me,” he snarled, and although his tone was fierce and stable, the effect lost its punch when followed with the breathless grunt of another added finger. Jonathan never ceased his mouthing at McCullum’s collarbone, but finally forced himself to pull away when the man began grinding down on his hand, and the thought of him fucking himself on Jonathan’s fingers was nearly enough to undo him then and there. 

“Enough,” Jonathan all but panted, “please, I want to…” McCullum followed his trailing off with a rough hand wrapped around the doctor’s stiff cock, and the noise Jonathan gifted him sounded like he’d been punched in the ribs. Geoffrey stroked him inquisitively, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle him, but Jonathan was patient, the only telling of his fervor the imprint of his fingernails digging in to the skin of Geoffrey’s slender hips. The hunter paused, looking around until he found the discarded tin, and without a word slicked Jonathan up from root to tip in a few solid strokes, only then daring to meet the leech’s eyes.

McCullum held no illusion of what was happening here, but he still refused to give it a name. A sharing of company, a consolidation of pleasure, the thrill of the unknown and prohibited. Whatever it was, it was to be kept simple, physical, and to themselves, a tacit agreement between them that this night, and those to come, would be contained within whichever four walls they found themselves. It was a false comfort, but it eased Geoffrey to imagine that perhaps they really could have this. Maybe in these moments, alone in the dark, the hunter and the hunted could find sanctuary in each other without bearing the upset of their lives that would inevitably come with it. A fool’s hope, McCullum knew as he pressed his chest to Reid’s to align himself properly, but hope was hope, all the same. 

McCullum had a hand behind him to steady Jonathan’s hard cock against his hole, and it took everything the vampire had not to buck up immediately into the tight heat that enveloped him when the man inched his way down maddeningly slowly. He flung his hands down to his sides to scrabble at the sheets rather than Geoffrey’s fragile human skin, and it brought a satisfied smirk to McCullum’s handsomely flushed face as he sunk down through the discomfort. He didn’t stop until the backs of his thighs rested against Jonathan’s hips and the feeling of fullness settled in his bones. It was a tight fit, but Jonathan has been right to prep him well and McCullum sensed no true pain, but took a moment to adjust regardless before giving an experimental roll of his hips. The friction inside him was a novel feeling, but Jonathan choked off a moan like a bull in rut and canted his hips mindlessly. The feeling of McCullum moving while Jonathan was inside him was one thing, but somehow the feeling of Jonathan moving inside him of his own accord was an entirely different demon that McCullum wanted to hunt till the end of his days.

“Fuck,” he gasped out when Jonathan gave another tentative nudge, his voice deep and thick with lust. He began to move quicker then, raising himself up a few inches to sink back down as the doctor lie back on the mattress and tried his damnedest not to rip the bedding. He began to ride the man in earnest when he braced his hands on Reid’s sides to better lift himself from the leech’s throbbing prick, pinning his back to the bed in the process. The control McCullum wielded was a pretense at best, an illusion gliding over the fact that Jonathan could pick him up and rip him in half with a flick of the wrist were the impulse to strike him, and the thought pooled at the base of McCullum’s shivering spine where it felt as though electricity pulsed through his vertebrae. He hadn’t known what to expect from any of this, and would be lying if he claimed to be an expert in the field of men, but the tingling pleasure that zipped up his back and coalesced in his weeping cock every time Jonathan met his grinding rolls with a desperate thrust had his thighs burning and sweat slicking his chest. 

Neither could say how long Geoffrey rode the leech like a well seasoned cowboy, but as his thighs began to tremble and his soft grunts turned to petulant groans when his legs began to tire, Jonathan replaced his hands on his outer thighs to lift him higher with every bounce. Reid sat up to better snap his hips on every swift downstroke and McCullum responded with hands braced on his shoulders. McCullum was adamant this was a primal act, one that resulted from the need for release shared between two like-minded men, but when Jonathan tilted his head to kiss McCullum as he continued to pound into the man like a metronome he could feel another piece of resolve crumble within himself. The gesture was just too perfect, too sickeningly sweet in a moment of saturated heat that McCullum gave up on holding back the whine that clung to his throat. 

“Reid,” he murmured his name like a benediction. It was a plea of sorts, though for what McCullum couldn’t be sure. Reid answered him nonetheless by pulling him off his cock completely, to McCullum’s confusion, and pushed the hunter down onto the bed.

“Roll over,” he instructed in a voice that was far from his own. McCullum’s cock gave a hearty twitch and he groaned again as he rolled onto his stomach and watched the vampire over his shoulder. The Ekon trailed his nails down the hunter’s back leaving fine, distinctive lines across his shoulder blades and along his spine, and hooked his hands under his hips when he reached his waist to tug him up onto his knees. 

McCullum was far beyond the point of no return, and far beyond caring about any broken wanton sound that may claw its way from his throat, but he still had the wherewithal to marvel at how although it was good before, this was a new beast entirely. Jonathan wasted no time now that McCullum was well adjusted, and slid into him easily as if he was born for it. McCullum buried his face and gripped at the flat and lifeless pillow as if it would save him, and he was grateful for the mouthful of cloth when Jonathan pulled out and slammed home in one quick and merciless plunge. Pale hips met the backs of his thighs with a resounding smack that echoed in the small room again and again, each time hammering away at that part inside of him that shook his core and sent sparks straight to his neglected dick hanging heavy in the cool open air. He took himself in hand to give the base a firm squeeze, and as Reid rocked into him from behind with such force it bucked his own hips forward and into his fist. It was torture trying to decide if he wanted to fuck forward into his hand or back onto Jonathan’s thick cock, but the choice was made for him when Jonathan picked up the pace and it was all McCullum could do to keep his knees underneath him. Whispers tickled the shell of his ear as Jonathan hunched over him and muttered sweet nothings as if McCullum cared to hear them. 

“Fuck, fuck, Geoffrey, so good, you’re so tight…” he praised, and McCullum wished he could bury his head under the pillow to hide his burning red ears from the doctor’s lewd ramblings, but his embarrassment was short-lived when Reid pulled back to better grip his hips. With every thrust he yanked the man back against him, impaling him deeper on his aching cock. McCullum whined openly then, more deep and impatient than reedy and whimpering, but it was a sound he would deny until his dying breath. Hard, deep, and so impossibly fast, Reid fucked into him with reckless abandon that had Geoffrey gasping incoherent nonsense into the pillow, only letting the noises escape when his lungs started to burn and he was forced to turn his head to breath. Faster and faster, Jonathan’s rhythm heightened to inhuman speeds that McCullum had no hope of matching, and though he wanted to meet Reid thrust for thrust, the vampire was admittedly holding him by the hips just to keep him upright. The hunter could do little but let go and let himself be plundered by the Ekon’s immense strength and impossible speed as the heat in his groin burned like thick magma, and he fisted his cock hard and fast as the pressure threatened to boil over. He couldn’t help the spewing of incomprehensible curses that flooded from his mouth when Reid braced a hand against his shoulder to pin him down and leaned into his thrusts. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck! Reid- fucking bastard, you- fuck, mm!” he cried out. “Reid, I can’t- Fuck, I’m-” McCullum choked back his curses as the heat finally burned him up, and the senseless pounding against that particular brutalized spot deep inside drove him over the edge as he came into his fist with a guttural moan. His muscles clenched and the heat flooded him completely as ecstasy overwhelmed him, and he shook and clutched uselessly at the sheets before he could remember how to breath while all the while Jonathan fucked him through it, relentless and unyielding against his abused prostate. As Geoffrey climaxed Reid cursed at the sudden tightness flexing around his cock in spasming pulses, and while the man came down and melted, boneless and spent, Jonathan tucked his arms more firmly under his hips as he chased the lightning that flickered in his groin. A final bout of a few violent thrusts and he pulled out enough to spill his release across McCullum’s lower back, thick ropes of pearly cum splattering his tanned skin and pooling in the dimples above his arse. Jonathan continued to cling to his hips as he shuddered through the aftershocks, and when he eased the other man down to the mattress, he followed. 

McCullum lie on his stomach, uncaring for the sticky fluid drying between him and the bedding, and panted feverishly, still riding his high. Though his eyes were closed, he could hear the other man rustling about, and felt fine fabric brush across his exposed back, cleaning him of the mess. He turned his head to watch Reid work as he wiped him gently, with far more care than McCullum would have given in return. Eyes inscrutable, he watched the doctor finish and toss the garment aside, and McCullum was too tired to suppress the small smile that twitched across his lips when he noticed the leech had used his own shirt to clean him. The smile was gone by the time Reid lay down beside him. The doctor seemed intent on studying every feature, every line on his face, every pore of his skin, his eyes roamed as if they needed to map him out completely before they lost sight of him forever. He supposed one day they would. 

“Stop staring at me,” he grumbled. The exhaustion lacing his voice softened the irritation of his words. 

“Sorry,” Reid apologized without looking away. McCullum huffed but let him stare, and even when he closed his eyes to rest for a moment he could still feel their gaze upon him.

“Quit,” he finally spit a bit fiercer without opening his eyes. 

“I want to touch you.” 

McCullum cracked an eye at that and regarded the vampire skeptically, but his face was the picture of neutrality and gave away no intentions. “You’ve been touching me,” he pointed out. “Not good enough for ya?”

Jonathan huffed a laugh and smiled, still a little breathless. “I can assure you, that was more than ‘good enough,’” he said, “I just… wanted to touch.” Jonathan was lying on his right side facing McCullum so that McCullum’s right hand lay palm down in the space between them, and Jonathan reached out tentatively to trace featherlight fingertips down the tendons across the back. Jonathan’s hands were not as cold as he remembered, and it occurred to Geoffrey that it was because of him, that it was his own body heat that had warmed the other’s skin. 

He watched the vampire trace his veins and draw absent circles across his skin, and the man seemed so content to exist in that moment it surprised him when he spoke. 

“Did you… want to talk about this?” he asked quietly. McCullum’s eyes flicked from the thumb rubbing idly over his hand to the Ekon’s face, and McCullum was intrigued to find he looked a bit nervous. He took a deep, resigned breath but answered honestly. 

“No,” he said, “no I don’t think so.” Reid canted his head but let it go. McCullum didn’t feel obligated to explain himself, and Reid seemed accepting of his recalcitrance. They laid in silence together for a long while with Jonathan’s hand resting over Geoffrey’s before the human spoke again. 

“The less we talk about this the better.” McCullum spread and stretched his fingers to allow the other mans’ to slip between them. “I’m… accepting of this. Of how far I’ve fallen. We both have a lot at stake here. I should’ve already resigned by now, but… I still have too much to do, for Priwen, for the world.” He unthreaded his hand from Jonathan’s and pushed himself up to lean on his arm- “My men are tolerant of you, they know you’re a doctor and you do your part, but they can’t trust you, Reid, and neither should I. This can’t come to light, not ever.” 

Reid had been expecting as much, he’d be a fool not to, but the sting of it didn’t smart any less and it showed. McCullum pitied him, and it hurt his heart in turn, but there was nothing to be done about it. It was out of both of their control. 

“Listen to me, Reid,” he parroted himself and grasped Jonathan’s abandoned hand. “My duty is to my men, and I won’t turn my back on what we stand for, not even for you,” he declared sternly. “But I will give you this-” he clasped Reid’s hand tightly in both of his and pulled it to rest against his chest “-these nights, when I can. It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got.”

Jonathan looked at him astonished and then down to his hand still clutched in McCullum’s own, and he blinked as though he’d been alone in a dark room and someone had suddenly shone a torch in his eyes, but it must have been enough because he vaulted into a sitting position just long enough to wrap his free arm around McCullum’s neck and drag him back down to the bed. With a startled “Oof” McCullum hit the mattress only to be kissed breathless in an instant. Jonathan joined his other hand to the tangle between their chests and kissed him again, and again, and again. McCullum gave as good as he got knowing their nights were limited, but even still he was content to waste them here. Maybe this would be terrible, he knew, and it would certainly hurt like a bitch in the end no matter how this story went, but perhaps, in the moments like these, if they were numerous and sweet enough, the two of them could make it worth all the pain. Maybe the first step in trusting someone is giving them the power to hurt you. After all, what is love if not having the power to harm, and choosing not to? Perhaps that is true trust; knowing that they didn’t kill you then, and allowing yourself to believe that they won’t kill you now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My bad


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems the dust has settled around our two heroes, and the future looks brighter than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And done 😌

“Your men have taken to stopping me in the streets.”

Geoffrey paused mid-drink to eye the doctor over the rim of his glass. “What?” he asked doubtfully. He’d ordered his men to give the Ekon, and this particular Ekon alone, a wide berth for more reasons than one. Harassing him was a waste of ammo and a one way ticket to the overcrowded infirmary, and in addition, though McCullum was loath to admit it, he may be inclined to give more than two shits about Reid’s wellbeing since their recent… shift in priorities. Reid nodded thoughtfully at his eloquent response before elaborating. 

“But instead of bullets and fire, they come bearing wounds and questions. Have you said something to them?” 

Geoffrey grimaced. “I haven’t. Told ‘em to stay out of your way mostly, you ain’t worth the gunpowder.” Jonathan returned the hunter’s smirk and resumed. 

“I intended to deem the first encounter a rare exception, but the trend continues. Just last night, one of yours came up to me out of nowhere and asked me to take a look at the unusual swelling around his knee.” Geoffrey frowned, remembering the young lad who’d been complaining about a bum leg. 

“Erickson? Little freckly bastard with the curls?” 

“The very same.”

“Huh. What’s wrong with him?” Geoffrey kicked back from the desk to lean for the decanter on the shelf behind him before he turned back to Reid expectantly as he refilled his glass. The doctor sat opposite of the grand cluttered desk and looked proper as ever in his three piece and tie, but his coat was shed and he lounged in the armchair with all the ease of a well fed tiger. McCullum wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the image of the leech in so casual a state, unguarded and unwary, but it warmed him still as sure as the whiskey in his veins. 

“It’s hard to say for certain, but the concentration of blood to the lateral side of the patella may suggest a torn meniscus, likely an older injury. When I told him to go to hospital, he refused.”

“Mm,” McCullum grunted, “not many of us here like hospitals much, myself included. Too many questions, too many eyes.” The disappointment lacing the doctor’s despondent face wasn’t subtle.

“Geoffrey…”

“Don’t ‘Geoffrey’ me, leech. If you want him to get help so bad, go help him.” 

Jonathan sighed and straightened in his chair. “He’s not the only one. Others have come to me for help as well, slow healing bruises, migraines, dislocations. They have many questions about their health that they deserve answers to. They need proper attending physicians if they’re going to continue this strenuous line of work.”

Geoffrey grumbled and abandoned his drink to lean forward irritably on his forearms. “Don’ you think I know that? But what am I to do of it? Priwen has emergency field medics, not posh practitioners, we ain’t in a position to be hiring brain surgeons. The boys are free to go to any hospital they see fit, all of ‘em just know better.”

Jonathan stroked his beard, lost in thought as he gazed out the window of McCullum’s office while Geoffrey worried the inside of his cheek between his teeth. The doctor wasn’t wrong, it had been a pressing issue since the very beginning, ever since the Guard first put down their pens as scholars to take up arms as soldiers against these bastards of the night, but not since the Great Hunt had their need for medical attention been so desperate. If it was only supplies they lacked, McCullum could handle it, make arrangements, but it was of the expertise that they were in the most dire of need - people with the knowledge to apply practical treatment. He ground his teeth, sighed heavily, and stood up behind his desk having already resigned himself.

“Doctor Reid,” he enunciated, “if I were to provide you the materials and equipment, would you be able to tend to the soldiers of the Guard?” Jonathan stoped his stroking with fingers still buried in his beard as he looked at McCullum impassively, as if he were reading just another outdated poster on a street corner. There was a beat of silence before he turned to the window again, falsely aloof and unbothered. 

“I’d appreciate some specificity.”

“You are a doctor,” the man walked around the desk to lean against its front, folding his arms over his chest and crossing his ankles, “we are an organization that produces many injuries.” He had the vampire’s attention once more, and although McCullum was more familiar with those eyes than any other, they still threatened to steal the breath from his lungs whenever the full force of his gaze struck him. “I can provide you the opportunity to do what you do, in the place you’re needed most, in the manner in which you do it best - without scrutiny or the need to hide your nature.” A pregnant pause followed. 

“And what of Pembroke?”

“Although it ought to be, this doesn’t have to be a full time gig. Come when you can, stay ’til you can’t.”

“And your men? Vampire hunters being sewn up by a vampire? Surely they won’t trust me.”

“I should hope not, but they trust me. And try as they might, a few of them are warming to you already.” Jonathan huffed. 

“…I would need a space.”

“I can arrange for an office. I’ll even do you one better and throw in a private room, in case you’re kept past sunrise.”

Reid bit his lip in a semblance of a crooked smile. “You wouldn’t share yours?” 

“Don’t push your luck.” 

Reid only hesitated a moment before he clapped his hands loudly and stood with finality, and he rubbed his palms together as he searched the room for his coat, the ghost of a smirk still etched upon his lips. “Very good. Well, you’ve certainly given me much to think on. I’ll need to see to some details and perhaps speak with the director regarding a cut back in my scheduled hours. There’s a possibility Nurse Crane could supplement my usual community rounds… Yes, much to think on indeed…” he trailed off with his back already turned. 

“Fine, fine. Think it over, get back to me when you’ve made a decision,” McCullum told him before adding rather hesitantly, “I’ll have them black out a room either way.” 

Jonathan had been reaching for the door with his coat in hand when he turned back curiously, and McCullum watched him return with suspicion weaved throughout his trademark glare. From where he leaned against the desk, McCullum had to tilt his head back to keep his eyes on the Ekons’ so far above him, and when he felt smooth lips mold to his and rough beard scratch his cheeks his eyes slipped shut for the sweet half of a moment before the doctor pulled away again and was out the door, the sharp click of the latch echoing in the lonely room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has inspired another, which I'll be posting the first chapter of here shortly. It may be a bit sillier than this one, but now that they've come to terms with themselves and found a routine of sorts, now is the time for exploration.


End file.
